


Superluminal Motion

by nekosmuse



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Brainwashing, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Ensemble Cast, Eventual Happy Ending, Force-Sensitive Finn, M/M, Multiple Pov, Non-Linear Narrative, Post TFA, Psychological Conditioning, Reconditioning, Rescue Missions, Slow Build, Stormpilot, Trauma Recovery, Unreliable Narrator, competent!Finn, induced amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 75,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7805827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/pseuds/nekosmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several months after the events in TFA, Finn is captured and re-integrated into the First Order, his memories wiped clean...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:
> 
> This story features an ensemble cast, though largely focuses on the core three (Finn, Rey and Poe). Relationships outside Finn/Poe are examined from a canon-compliant perspective.
> 
> This story also depicts psychological abuse in the form of brainwashing, induced amnesia, reality distortion and psychological conditioning.
> 
> Great liberties have been taken.

_In astronomy, escape velocity is the lowest velocity a body needs to escape the gravitational attraction of a particular planet or object. The escape velocity at the event horizon of a black hole is equal to c, the speed of light. In some radio galaxies and quasars, thought to contain black holes, faster-than-light velocities, called superluminal motion, have been observed. This phenomena can be explained as an optical illusion caused by the object partly moving in the direction of the observer when speed calculations assume it is stationary._

~*~

I.

He wasn't like the others. FN-2187 wasn't sure how, but he knew it was true.

Perhaps he wasn't as good, his reflexes not as sharp, his instincts not as honed. Maybe that was why Captain Phasma singled him out, the weight of her gaze worse even than Kylo Ren's. FN-2187 didn't know what he'd done to deserve either.

He wasn't remarkable. Not the best in his division, but not the worst either. His record, if not admirable, was at least consistent. That was good. Get too far ahead of the pack and you were marked for command; stand too far back and you were decommissioned, vanished from your post in the middle of the night. FN-2187 was neither of those things.

And yet that wasn't quite right...

No, it was. He was competent. Perfect cannon fodder.

The latter thought came unbidden, FN-2187 flinching at its implication. To even think as much was high treason. Was that why they watched him? Did Kylo Ren know? Kylo Ren knew everything, surely he knew FN-2187's thoughts before they formed...

But no, there was honour in drawing enemy fire, allowing those above you to realize their goals. FN-2187 believed this wholeheartedly. Surely Kylo Ren knew that as well, and yet...

It didn't matter, he decided. He would simply strive to do better, starting now, FN-2187 straightening a little under Phasma's heavy scrutiny.

"FN-2187," she said. "You hesitated, why?"

He froze, then, thankful for the obscurity of his helmet. He could feel beads of sweat pearling against his forehead, several streaking down his face, sharp salt blurring his vision. Phasma's voice was tinny, like a distant echo heard at the end of a long corridor. He glanced once to the simulation, the training sequence frozen at the point of his mistake. The holo-interface wasn't sharp enough to resolve features, and yet the shimmering image of an orange-clad Resistance pilot was frighteningly human. Something ugly twisted in FN-2187's gut.

"Sorry, Captain," he replied. "My blaster jammed, a temporary malfunction."

The lie felt heavy on his tongue, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why he'd told it. All Phasma had to do was requisition his blaster and then she'd know, and then it wouldn't matter what Kylo Ren knew: FN-2187 would be marked, either sent for reconditioning or disappeared like those unworthy of Stormtrooper armour.

Phasma, perched above him on the observation deck, said nothing. She merely stared. FN-2187 waited a long, endless eternity for her order, but it never came. Eventually she dismissed him with a flick of her wrist. FN-2187 moved to the back of the line, FN-3099 stepping forward to take his place. The simulation began anew. FN-2187 couldn't bring himself to watch.

That night he dreamt of battle, though outside simulations FN-2187 didn't know the honour. The dream was frighteningly real, the scent of charred flesh heavy in the air, blaster fire and explosions raining down around him. He was running (always running) both away from and towards the destruction. At one point he stumbled, but the hand that reached for him wasn't the white glove of a fellow trooper. Instead the blurry features of the sim-pilot appeared before him, FN-2187 accepting his outstretched hand.

He woke confused and disoriented, momentarily terrified by the soft red light filtering into the room. It came back to him then, his body relaxing. FN-2187 was in his bunk, safe inside the First Order, any battles he might face still distant points in his future.

"Hey," someone said above him, an urgent whisper displacing the darkness. FN-2187 blinked until the face of his bunkmate came into focus.

FN-3610 hung over the lip of the bunk, his features upside down. In the light his eyes were a brilliant green, startling against the olive of his cheeks. Bathed in shadow they they were gaping black holes, punctuated by the sharp cut of his jaw. He had the look of a man paralyzed by fear; driven to action by annoyance. FN-2187 wrestled with the contradiction before finding his voice.

"Sorry, was I..." _shouting again_ , he didn't finish. The hard set of Ten's mouth was all the confirmation he needed. Heat flooded FN-2187's cheeks. He mumbled an apology. Ten continued to stare, considering.

"Ninety-nine reported you last time," he eventually said, and then he was gone, the bunk above him creaking under his weight.

FN-2187 stared at the space he'd left behind. _Had they sent him for reconditioning?_ he wanted to ask, something akin to horror curling in his chest. Instead he turned his gaze to the underside of the bunk, red light burning his retinas.

There _was_ something wrong with him, he decided, some fatal flaw in his conditioning. He could find no other explanation for the growing tightness in his chest. He wanted to run, the impulse almost overwhelming though he could not identify its source. _My designation is FN-2187 and I am a Stormtrooper_ , he thought furiously. _My loyalty is to the First Order_. The words, practiced and precise, rang hollow in his head. Unbidden, images from the dream appeared before him, though now the sim-pilot's features were clear, warm brown eyes imploring him home. FN-2187 shut his eyes against the vision. He forced himself to grow conscious of his breath, adopting the steady in and out of combat breathing.

The remainder of the night passed without sleep.

 

II.

"Sir," Phasma said, feet firmly planted at attention. She waited for General Hux to acknowledge her before continuing. Kylo Ren stood at his shoulder, a silent, looming shadow.

"Yes, Phasma, what is it?" General Hux wore his frustration openly, without a trace of shame. Were he not her commanding officer, she might have insulted him for it.

"FN-2187," she began, barely getting the words out before Ren was moving, the weight of his attention crushing.

"What about FN-2187?" he asked, his interest far, far too obvious.

Many of the younger officers, the stormtroopers certainly, found his presence unnerving. Phasma did not usually count herself among them. Today was different. Today Kylo Ren resonated with power. Still, she met his gaze without flinching, her voice unaffected.

"It may be nothing, but during a simulation, he targeted and destroyed eight Resistance fighters, but was unable to kill a pilot. He claimed his blaster malfunctioned. I believe he may have lied."

Kylo Ren didn't move, and yet she felt his presence retreat, the pressure on her chest dissipating enough for Phasma to breathe. She was acutely aware of the others on the bridge, junior officers mostly, all intently ignoring their conversation. None on board knew of FN-2187's treason.

"Anything else?" Ren asked. Phasma shook her head.

"No, Sir."

She didn't like the bridge, the space far too open, bank of windows above them a terrifying reminder of the endless expanse of space. She preferred the tight corridors of the training decks. Today the bridge felt impossibly small, Ren's presence occupying the whole of the space. Hidden by his mask, his expression was inscrutable and yet she could feel his anger. It emanated from him in pulsing waves.

"You may go now," he said, dismissive. At his side, General Hux bristled.

"Remain where you are, Captain," he interjected, Phasma helpless to obey. Only an idiot would anger Kylo Ren, but General Hux was her commanding officer.

He turned his attention to Kylo Ren, Ren seemingly unmoved by Hux's fury.

"This has gone on long enough. How many more times are we going to recondition him? At what point do we recognize him for what he is: a danger to the First Order."

She stood on the periphery now, an unwilling witness to an argument she felt certain spanned the entirety of FN-2187's re-integration. She wished now General Hux had let her leave. She had duties to attend, their feuding beneath her.

"Tell me, General, are you not curious? He is one of your men, after all. How many more do you think there are in the ranks? How many men standing on the edge of treason? More importantly, what do you think it'll take to push them over the line?"

Hux's expression was pure vitriol. He would be wise, Phasma thought, to wear a mask, hide such weaknesses.

"He's an anomaly," Hux spat. "One we should throw out the airlock and be done with."

"That is not an option," Ren answered, cold fury filling the space between them. Those still on the deck had retreated to the far corner, as far from Kylo Ren's raw power as they could get. Phasma remained rooted in her spot. General Hux threw back his head and laughed.

"You still think she's going to come for him. Face it, Ren, she's smarter than you, she knows a trap when she sees one."

Ren didn't answer, though for a moment Phasma was certain he meant to reach out and crush Hux with the Force. Instead he pivoted, three short strides bringing him to the forward viewscreen. Hux followed. The air around them quivered.

"You're wrong," Ren said without turning around. "It's not her I'm interested in."

Even Phasma heard the lie.

"I am, however, curious to see how long it'll take for FN-2187 to again break his conditioning."

He spun then, gaze trapping Phasma in place. She held her ground. She knew better than to show weakness.

"Send him for reconditioning, this time without the stims," he suggested. Phasma blanched, glad then for the weight of her helmet. General Hux had no such defenses.

"Are you mad? The mind cannot handle the reconditioning process without stimulants. We'll be lucky if he doesn't come out a vegetable."

The outburst drew Ren's attention, Phasma glad for the reprieve, though she knew this would make dealing with Hux difficult in the coming days. Set against Ren's seething, Hux's anger was near hysteria, his cheeks inflamed to match his hair, his eyes flashing with disbelief.

"And yet you wanted to throw him out the airlock. This is hardly the time to grow a conscious, General."

There was no argument Hux could make, not when Ren had set his mind. Phasma knew this. So, she suspected, did Hux. He stared Ren down for a long, annoyingly inefficient minute before finally relenting, a flick of his wrist her only dismissal. Phasma saluted, and then spun on her heel, glad to be away from the both of them, the First Order and everything she believed in ill served by their sparring.

 

III.

Poe brought his hands down onto the briefing table, hard. Several in the room jumped. Leia remained unmoved, sympathetic understanding colouring her eyes. Poe briefly considered apologizing, and then thought better of it. He hadn't intended the force, but then maybe he had, months-- _months_ \--of searching building in his chest until he felt ready to explode with it.

"Look, General, I know we're short on men, and I know this could turn out to be another dead end, but it's the first bit of intel we've received in weeks and I..."

How to put all that he felt into words. He owed this to Finn. He wanted Finn back. He felt... a myriad of conflicting emotions beginning and ending with the certainty that they could do this: they could find Finn and bring him home.

"Poe," Leia said, Poe barely registering the use of his first name. There were dignitaries in the room, people of rank. But this wasn't a general speaking to one of her commanders. This was Leia, maternal warmth he hadn't known since before his mother died. Poe deflated.

He didn't want to have this conversation, again. How many times would Finn slip between his fingers; how long would he spend running from rumour to rumour, chasing a kriffing ghost across the damned universe all because Poe wasn't fast enough the first time.

"I know this is important to you," Leia was saying. Her expression suggested she did know, but then, was there anyone left on base who didn't? "And I'm not saying we can't look into this, but I can't have you going off half-cocked when there's a chance this is another dead end, or worse, another trap."

Poe shook his head. She had to know this was different. Every rumour before had Finn being held somewhere, every rescue attempt blowing up in their faces. This wasn't that. This was...

"I don't think it's us he's trying to draw out."

And there, he'd said it, the thing everyone knew but refused to acknowledge. Luke Skywalker was out there, and with him a new Padawan, who just happened to care more about Finn than probably Poe did and that was saying a lot.

"All the more reason..."

"All the more reason for us to look into this, so that she won't be tempted. Leia," he said, reaching across the table then to take her outstretched hand. He was pleading--practically begging--but if Poe had to spend one more day sitting on this he was going to do something crazy. "Let me do this. I don't need to bring anyone with me. Just let me take a look, see if the information is accurate. If it is..."

"If it is..." Leia paused, though her grip on Poe's hand tightened. Those originally around the table had retreated to the perimeter of the room, their features lost in shadows. It gave the illusion of intimacy, privacy. Poe was absolutely not going to cry.

"Have you prepared for the possibility we won't get him back, or if we do, he won't be the same man you..."

She left the rest unsaid, though they both heard what she wasn't saying. Poe shook his head. He didn't believe that--not for a second. He'd broken free before, he could do it again. Poe could... Even if he didn't come back the same, just freeing him was enough. It had to be. Poe couldn't live with himself otherwise.

"I don't believe that," he said, "and neither do you."

She was going to say no, he could tell just by looking at her. He understood--hated it, but understood. Resources were dwindling. They were down able bodies; starfighters. Even if she'd wanted to--and Poe suspected she did--she couldn't authorize it. She had her own plans; her own problems. He didn't blame her for any of it, but for the first time since joining the Resistance he felt conflicted, his course no longer set.

"Please," he said, his words barely a whisper. At his feet, BB-8 trilled loudly, echoing the sentiment. Leia's expression softened.

"Oh, Poe," she said, "of course I'm not going to stop you. I don't think I could if I tried."

She smiled then, patient and understanding. Not a mother's smile, but the smile of someone who'd been there, who understood precisely what Poe was going through.

"But I don't want you out there chasing Destroyers. You can't just waltz in and start taking off helmets until you find him."

Poe opened his mouth to protest, the words dying at Leia's raised hand.

"Hear me out," she said. Poe nodded. "The first thing we're going to do is verify this transmission. It doesn't do us any good if the encryption signatures don't match it to the First Order."

Again, Poe nodded. That at least was sensible, he would have done so himself.

"The second thing we're going to do is trace the transmission back to its source, see if we can't dig a little deeper, get our hands on a few more files. Maybe that'll give us a location."

"We get a location..." A slow grin spread over his cheeks. He couldn't help it. Every time before this, their intel was practically gift wrapped. Not once had Poe not known he was flying into a trap. He'd gone anyway. Leia might not agree, but as far as Poe was concerned even the slightest possibility was worth the risk.

"That's a big if, and we won't get there if you run off, start pointing your ship at every Star Destroyer you see."

She was asking for a promise. Poe thought about spending another few days, weeks even, tracking intel. He thought about Finn and what Finn must be going through. He thought about the months spent waiting. He thought about flying over dense jungle, trying to pinpoint Finn's location, the sound of radio silence in his ear.

"I'll wait," he ultimately said. He wasn't going to do Finn any favours dead, and besides, Leia was right: they needed to do this the proper way. Poe might not have liked it, but he understood it.

"Thank you." She released his hand then, Poe having forgotten she still held it. He felt lost, adrift without it, but Leia soon came around the table to link their arms. She led him from the room.

"While our techs do their work, I want you to get some sleep." She squeezed his arm. "Don't argue with me, Dameron. You left for the Anoat System six days ago and I very much doubt you've slept since then. Depending on what they find I may need you in the sky, and that's not going to happen unless I know you've had at least twelve hours."

She stopped then, just outside the door, the others in the room now lingering near the table, whatever meeting he'd interrupted set to recommence. The arm wrapped around his disappeared, replaced by a hand on his shoulder. Leia squeezed.

"I promise you we will do everything in our power to bring him home. I only ask that you take care of yourself. We get Finn back, he's going to need you in one piece."

The look she shot him brooked no argument, Poe well aware she had both the authority and the willingness to commit him to the medical bay if he refused. He wasn't tired--no, that was a lie, he was exhausted, he just didn't think he could sleep. That didn't stop him from nodding, a tactile promise made more for her sake than his. Leia shook her head, but she let him go.

He ought to shower, maybe see about getting something of substance into his stomach, but his feet brought him to his quarters on autopilot, Poe barely through the door before exhaustion hit him, hard. He staggered, nearly tripping over BB-8 as they beelined for their docking station, binary for _home_ a sharp staccato of beeps. Poe smiled, but the sentiment died as he took in Finn's bunk, blankets still military neat from the morning of their run.

"I swear I am going to find you," he said to the empty air, his heart aching as bad as it had those first few nights, after they'd exhausted their every lead, certainty turning to doubt, hope fading to frustration. He knew better than to hope now--had too often seen it slip between his fingers--but as he fell onto his bed, he let himself imagine what it would be like. He let himself imagine Finn coming home.

~*~

_"...position...down...need ops...on your left, on your left..."_

_The transmission cut again, static filling the comm link. Above him BB-8 whirled frantically, trying to reestablish the link. Poe cursed, and then brought his x-wing a little lower._

_"Finn," he shouted into the comms, but got only static in return. "Beebee-Ate, you got a lock on them?"_

_He was scanning both on screen and out the front windshield, but penetrating the dense tangle of jungle was damned near impossible, their ground forces as hidden as the enemy. Poe had only a vague notion of their last position._

_"Damn it, Finn, where are you?" he said into the comm, disappointed but unsurprised when Finn didn't answer. This whole damned mission had gone to hell. Aris was supposed to be an communications outpost, not a fully fleshed military base, a base point they could use to triangulate the First Order's position. Find General Hux's flagship before the First Order had a chance to rebuild and it would be over. They shouldn't have had to deal with stormtroopers, TIE fighters. In and out, that was the plan. Hell, the First Order shouldn't have even known they were here._

_"Beebee-Ate, I'm going to take us up a bit, see if we can get a better signal," he said, glaring at the trees. "Blue leader," he said into his comm, "try to keep em off my ass."_

_"Ay-ay, Poe," came the response, clear as day. It wasn't the kriffing signal._

_Until now he'd been doing a reasonably good job of not panicking. He suspected that was about to change, pressure crushing his chest like he was trying to break orbit. "Damn it, Finn," he muttered, growing desperate. Where were they? He glanced out his side window, endless tangle of trees blocking his view until..._

_"There," he shouted, letting out a whoop for good measure. It wasn't ground forces, but it was their shuttle, and that meant he had a starting point._

_"Poe," came over the comm, Kare Kun's voice pinched. Poe tore his gaze from the shuttle, half expecting a TIE-fighter. Instead he spotted the distant rise of a First Order transport ship._

_"Looks like our boys sent em packing," Poe said into the comm, even as something knotted in his stomach. He thought briefly of following, taking the thing down before it could break orbit, but Finn was still down there somewhere, Poe not willing to risk a chase. He swung his x-wing back around, towards the shuttle where he could now see their men, fewer than before, but enough to warrant relief._

_It wasn't until they were back at the base that he learned Finn wasn't among them, a frantic hour of searching passing before the obvious became clear, and by then it was far, far too late._


	2. Chapter 2

IV.

She knew precisely where he was; could close her eyes and point to his location, Finn one of the trillions of tiny dots spread across the night sky.

They were so bright here, brighter even than Jakku, and she used to think the stars on Jakku were the brightest thing in the galaxy. But those stars were distant points, possibilities she had no frame of reference for. These she knew.

The lowest-hanging star on the horizon: Takodana  
The bright one above it: Jakku  
The faintly pink one in the west: D'Qar

The pulsating one in the east, so distant she felt rather than saw it: Finn

It wasn't a star but a ship, moving towards them, though at such incredibly slow speeds it might as well have stood still. The ship itself barely rippled the Force, its existence insignificant, but Finn's presence burned as bright as the midday Jakku sun.

"They're hurting him," she said, feeling only an echo of his pain. It wasn't the first time, but it was perhaps the worst.

They'd had this argument before, and she knew they would have it again. She knew, too, she would follow Skywalker's lead. She always did. The mind and heart know and want different things, but in this matter Luke was right: there was nothing she could do to help Finn, not without risking the balance of the universe, countless lives weighed against one.

Below her, jagged rocks broke the ocean's spray, the sound carrying up the cliff face. Familiar now, it accompanied her every waking moment, the shifting sands of Jakku replaced by pounding waves. Give them enough time and they would consume this island, rock crumbling piece by tiny piece. Rey stepped towards it, leaving the relative security of the temple ruins to stand on the precipice, her thoughts drifting outwards.

"You are not without power, Rey," Luke said from behind her, his words barely heard over the crashing of the waves. "Your mind can touch his, even at this distance, but you have to concentrate. You won't be able to communicate directly, but you can ease his suffering, shelter him from whatever it is they're doing."

Torture, Rey didn't say, though she might as well have, the word hanging between them. Lifting her hand, she reached for Finn's distant point of light.

_You must surrender, only then will you truly open yourself to the Force._

They were some of the first words Luke had ever said to her, back when his teaching was new, Rey still terrified of the power she was being asked to wield. It didn't scare her any less, but she understood it now, could feel it flowing through her, the impulse to struggle long since subdued.

He'd taught her to visualize a flower, petals opening to the Force, but there were no flowers on Jakku, so instead she imagined she was lichen, creeping tendrils spreading across the ground, absorbing the Force like scarce water, fueling her growth.

Today she might as well have existed in a drought.

"I can't," she said, her hand falling to her side. Luke came to stand beside her, his features as impassive as ever.

"You can."

She became aware of him then, a presence beyond his physical self. If Rey endured drought then Luke commanded floods. The Force flowed through him, more powerful than anything Rey knew to wield. It coursed through her, threatening to sweep her away, Luke's presence the only thing keeping her grounded. 

She narrowed her gaze, Finn's star growing brighter. She felt him then, an awareness she hadn't before. It was as though she was standing in the same room, Finn before her. Unbidden, she reached towards him. Pain and anguish shot through her hand. Pounding waves became distant screams.

 _Finn_ , she thought desperately, remembering then Luke's words.

She couldn't communicate directly, but she could lend him strength. For the first time in her training she felt the Force move through her; an unyielding power she instinctively knew how to control. That she suspected was Luke, but it didn't matter. She let it move through her and into Finn, Finn's screams fading to silence, his agony vanishing to tears. He pushed back against her, an echoing power that surged against her own.

The strength of it caught her off guard, and she felt her connection to the Force waiver, but again Luke grounded her, Finn's mind opening to her, startling realization carrying across the bond. It lasted only a heartbeat, and then it was gone, replaced by unnatural blankness, oblivion that cut her to her very core. She staggered forward, towards the cliff-face, Luke's hand at her waist the only thing keeping her from toppling over.

"I..." she said, no words to describe what she'd felt.

"Slowly now, let it go," Luke said. He sounded strangely shaken.

"Is he?"

"Alive, yes, and safe for the time being. You should rest."

She did not miss the worry in his tone, though she did not think it directed at her. She wanted to ask, but he left her then, still standing on the precipice, too weak to argue. She wanted to tell him it wasn't enough, that Finn wouldn't be safe until he was away from the First Order. She wanted to tell him she could do it: could fly the Millennium Falcon to his point in space, defeat Kylo Ren and set Finn free. Instead she glanced back out over the night sky, Finn's star little more than a pinprick of light, as out of reach as the Force, Rey nowhere near as strong as he needed her to be.

"I'm sorry," she said, knowing he wouldn't hear.

 

V.

"She was here, her mind, I felt it."

She lingered still, though he saw no reason to mention it. Her presence set him on edge, a distant echo he could neither pinpoint nor dismiss. She'd grown powerful since their last altercation, Ren no longer confident he could best her one on one. The thought filled him with barely suppressed rage. He trembled with it.

 _I will not fail you, Grandfather_ , he thought into the abyss.

Above him, bathed in smoke and shadow, Snoke sat, unperturbed by the news.

"Luke Skywalker is helping her," he said without a trace of concern. The confirmation was a dagger in Ren's breast.

"If we had the map, none of this would have happened," he said, hating the petulance in his tone.

"Perhaps," Snoke replied, though he seemed unconvinced.

Ren saw then the burning remains of Skywalker's temple, his Jedi strewn across the ground, soot all that remained. He should have killed Skywalker when he had the chance, all of this, everything he'd worked towards, at risk now because of his survival.

"The Resistance, they have the map, if you would let me..."

Snoke's laughter cut him short. When he spoke, his words carried nothing but scorn.

"The map? You said she was here, her presence, you felt it, and yet you, master of the Knights of Ren, cannot pinpoint her location?"

He leaned forward as he spoke, fingers coming together to steeple against his chin. His presence filled the room. Even through the holo-transmitter, Ren could feel his power. Shame burned at his core.

"A pity," Snoke said when Ren didn't answer. "And your stormtrooper?"

Ren winced. He had hope Snoke had forgotten, FN-2187 a complication he would as soon have done without.

"He survived the procedure," Ren said in careful monotone. Above him, Snoke's features twisted with surprise. He leaned forward, his interest apparent.

"Was it the girl?"

There was nothing of fear in his gaze. It held only open curiosity, a burning interest that bordered on delight. Ren couldn't fathom why. The girl alone was enough of a threat: the two together were perhaps strong enough to challenge them both. Cold doubt curled in Ren's heart. He shook his head.

"She was here. I believe her intent was to help, but she was too late, too far away. It wouldn't have matter anyway. He is more than capable on his own."

Such honesty cost him, and Ren knew it. It was entirely possible he should have listened to Hux and put the traitor out the airlock. FN-2187 was fast becoming an unacceptable risk. Above him, Snoke's expression grew faintly amused, Ren's failure complete.

"You were testing him," Snoke said, guessing his intentions, though not his conclusions. Ren scrambled to explain.

"He's growing stronger, if we don't..."

Snoke cut him off with a raised hand, his arm slashing violently through the air. In spite of himself, Ren withdrew.

"You know his will. He must come to us on his own, anything else will be met with rejection. Continue as you have been. We cannot risk him allying with the girl."

There were many responses Ren might have given, though he knew Snoke would dismiss them all. The Supreme Leader spoke and those beneath him scrambled to obey. Ren inclined his head.

"I will do as you say, Master," he intoned.

He bowed his head then, unwilling to see the amused glint of Snoke's gaze. It lingered only a moment and then Snoke was gone, Ren left standing in the empty assembly room, echoing silence his only companion. Rage still burned in his chest, but it was subdued now, replaced by gnawing doubt. The girl, FN-2187, they would be their undoing. To think otherwise was arrogance, pure and simple. If his grandfather had taught him anything, it was the danger of underestimating one's opponents.

"Captain Phasma," he said into his mask's comm. She replied immediately.

"Sir."

"FN-2187," he began, sensing Phasma's trepidation. "Keep me apprised of his progress," he ordered, an unusual request and yet one she had the tact not to question.

"Of course. Anything else?"

"That is all," he said, already striding from the room. Supreme Leader Snoke thought it unimportant, but Ren knew better. His attempts to lure the girl had proved unsuccessful; he would not make the mistake of allowing the traitor unfettered access. It was time, he realized, for a new plan, one he would execute without his master's sanctioning.

 

VI.

Caught between oblivion and full consciousness, for the briefest of moments FN-2187 ceased to exist.

He became someone other, or perhaps he’d always been someone other, FN-2187 a mask he donned against the harsh light of day. That seemed significant somehow, important in a way he couldn’t pinpoint. He reached for the thought, but poised on the soft edge of wakefulness it was like trying to catch smoke, gossamer strands slipping between his fingers. FN-2187 blinked himself awake.

And immediately grew aware of his surroundings, the infirmary if not familiar then at least known. Without moving, he retraced his steps, trying to follow the sequence of events that had led him here.

He remembered the practice range, and the simulation. He remembered FN-3610 systematically making his way through moving targets, Resistance fighters falling by the dozens until there was no one left, the playing field empty, Ten achieving a perfect score. He remembered FN-3610 taking his place at the back of the line, Phasma ordering him forward and then...

Nothing.

Only careful blankness where there should have been... something. Cold fear knotted in his stomach. FN-2187 began a silent assessment of his physical state.

He was groggy, the kind of groggy that came with artificially induced sleep. His muscles ached, though no more than they did after a particularly difficult training simulation. His throat was sore, but aside from that he appeared fully functioning. He hazarded to sit.

The room spun, glossy black walls becoming an indistinguishable blur. He waited for the sensation to pass while taking inventory of a new set of aches and pains. Now his body felt doused in flames, muscles protesting movement. He shifted, letting his shoulders roll in an effort to displace the tension, but doing so only highlighted the awkward pull of his spine.

A glance over his shoulder revealed the edge of a scar, the skin raised, newly pink and yet strangely familiar. He had no recollection of the wound, but it felt old, as much a part of him as his armour or his designation. FN-2187 shifted again, feeling the scar in its entirety, the pull of newly grown skin running the entire length of his spine.

Was that why he was here?

It hurt to lift his arm, but pain was a distant thing, FN-2187 trained to ignore it. He reached over his shoulder to brush fingertips against the edge of the scar. Fire and ice travelled the length of his spine, FN-2187’s vision going red.

And then he was no longer perched on the edge of an infirmary bed. Instead he stood on icy ground, skeletal trees towering above him, cinder and ash heavy on his tongue. In the distance, he heard screaming, while before him two figures dueled, one he recognized immediately as Kylo Ren.

FN-2187 recoiled, instinct telling him to run. Instead he took a step forward.

Doing so shattered the image, the forest disintegrating around him, replaced by the black walls of the infirmary. He found himself standing a foot from his bed, with no memory of having moved.

He was also wearing only his smallclothes, his skin pebbled with gooseflesh, the room startlingly cold. He turned a complete circuit, taking in medical equipment and monitors, but aside from the bedlinen, no one had thought to leave him any clothes. Through the doors, closed and FN-2187 suspected locked, he’d find more of the same, an endless corridor of rooms designed for exactly the same purpose. He doubted he’d find anything to wear in any of them either.

It left waiting, something he was trained to do but today it grated on him, impatience bubbling in his chest. The sensation was uncomfortably unfamiliar. He returned to the bed, again sitting on its edge, this time drawing its sheet up to drape over his shoulders. Coarse fiber scraped against the sensitive skin on his back, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the door, time passing with each steady exhale.

An eternity seemed to pass before the door slid open, the shock of it startling. FN-2187 sat a little straighter, watching as a medical droid rolled into the room. It seemed unsurprised to find him awake.

“FN-2187,” it said, a statement of fact. FN-2187 remained impassive, allowing the droid to complete its scans before rising from the bed.

“I am ready to report for duty,” he said, ignoring the dozens of questions burning in his head. Stormtroopers weren’t meant to ask questions. That much he remembered.

"That is for Captain Phasma to decide," the droid informed him.

As though summoned, the door slid open, Captain Phasma suddenly filling the room.

Her presence was unexpected, but more than that it was unusual. FN-2187 knew this unequivocally. He came to attention immediately, aware only that he stood before her out of uniform, the blankness of her gaze twisting in his stomach as fear.

"FN-2187," she said, parroting the medical droid. She eyed him critically, or so he imagined. It was impossible to tell under her helmet, but there was something in the set of her shoulders, the command of her presence that suggested she weighed his worth.

"Captain," he answered, standing a little straighter. "I'm ready to report for duty."

She didn't answer right away, instead coming fully into the room, the door sliding shut behind her. The medical droid had retreated to a corner, another piece of equipment now, insignificant and unobserved.

"What do you remember?" Phasma asked, the question as much a surprise as her presence. FN-2187 considered.

"I'm afraid I don't remember anything, Captain," he answered. "At least, not how I got here." Her helmet gave the vaguest twitch, what he imagined was a nod.

"You took a substantial blow to the head during hand-to-hand combat training. What you are experiencing is the lingering effects of a concussion. You will be put on light duties until further notice."

The First Order was only as strong as its weakest link. Phasma had said as much a dozen times, and yet here she was, assigning him light duties when she ought to have let him sink. The urge to protest sat on the tip of his tongue, but FN-2187 swallowed it back. For a Stormtrooper, Phasma's word was law.

"Yes, Captain," he said, without truly understanding. He didn't remember taking a blow to the head, and even if he had, he didn't remember anyone having received such treatment.

"That will be all. Get dressed and report to your unit at once."

She left as swiftly as she came, FN-2187 left standing in the middle of the room, the sheet he'd been wearing pooled on the ground. The medical droid followed her from the room, going, he hoped, in search of clothes. It left him only with his thoughts, the infirmary once again growing trees, FN-2187 caught between his confusion and his duty. Unbidden he reached for the scar, feeling then the puckered edge of it. That they'd healed him was a surprise; that they'd done so more than once verged on incredulous. As a stormtrooper, he knew his worth, nothing that had happened making any kind of sense.

But as a stormtrooper he knew, too, his place, and so he set aside the question, waiting with practiced ease for the droid's return. Captain Phasma had given him an order. FN-2187 stamped down the urge to disobey.

~*~

//

"You're awake," someone said from across the room. Finn turned his head very slowly, still mindful of the pull of newly grown skin across his spine. He found Poe Dameron framed inside the sliding doors of the medical bay.

"Poe!" Finn said, brighter than perhaps he'd intended, but he'd woken two days ago to find Rey gone and aside from medical droids and Dr. Kalonia he'd had no visitors; certainly none he recognized.

Poe smiled brightly as he came into the room. He was wearing his flight suit, the same orange Finn remembered from the flightdeck, Finn too dizzy with worry for Rey to fully appreciate their reunion. It swelled in him now. Here was the man who'd flown him away from the First Order; who'd offered him a name and a future in a single breath; a man who'd celebrate their joint survival by giving Finn his very first possession.

Here was a man Finn thought he might call a friend.

"Sorry I wasn't here," Poe was saying, though Finn couldn't imagine why. _Here for what?_ , he wanted to ask, but by then Poe had come to rest at the foot of Finn's bed, his hand hovering briefly before settling on Finn's exposed ankle. Finn startled at the touch.

"Sorry, did I..." Poe asked, pulling away as though burned. Finn shook his head.

"No, just...cold," he said, laughing at how feeble he sounded. Poe let out a low chuckle, the sound of it warming the room.

"Sorry," he said. He cupped his hands and brought them to his mouth, blowing hot air between them. "Circulation starts to go after the fourth day. I'm surprised I can still feel them."

He didn't elaborate, but Finn could deduce the obvious.

"When did you get back?" he asked, though, again, the answer should have been obvious. Aside from the flight suit, Poe looked absolutely wrecked, his hair a tangled mess, dark circles cutting into his cheeks. Only his smile seemed rested, though Finn was beginning to suspect Poe's smile was eternal. It suited him, anyway.

Poe made a show of checking the chronometer on his flight suit. "About ten minutes ago," he said, smile shifting to just the other side of a grin.

"You should get some sleep," Finn said in all earnestness. He knew what exhaustion felt like; would have likely fallen into a coma with or without Kylo Ren's lightsaber. Poe merely shook his head.

"I'm touched by your concern, but I'm already late for my debriefing. I just wanted to stop in, see how you were holding up." He paused then, catching Finn's eye, his gaze growing contemplative. In what Finn was beginning to suspect was an unconscious gesture, he drew his bottom lip between his teeth.

"It's good to see you back among the living. You gave us one hell of a scare," he said.

Finn expected him to leave then, to slip from the room as quickly as he came. Instead he lingered, hesitating briefly before finally deciding to drag over a chair from across the room and sit at Finn's side.

"I thought you were late for your debriefing?" Finn asked. Poe shot him a speculative look.

"You want me to leave, just say the word."

"I don't want you to leave," Finn replied immediately and without hesitation. He wasn't sure why, but saying as much seemed to catch Poe off guard, his eyes growing wide, his mouth opening and closing several times before finally deciding on a tooth-filled grin.

"Careful," he said, "you might never get rid of me."

He meant it as banter--Finn understood that much--but his entire life up until this point had been lived on the periphery, Finn wanting but never knowing this kind of connection. His expression grew sombre, tone serious when he said, "I don't want to get rid of you."

Poe startled at that, his shock apparent, Finn momentarily concerned he'd breached some unknown social more, but then Poe was laughing, smile so bright Finn couldn't help but smile back. His back was killing him, Rey was gone, and he was hold up in the medical bay for Force only knew how long, but for the first time in perhaps his existence, Finn was beginning to feel at home.


	3. Chapter 3

VII.

The ship was an aging, repurposed Nova-class battle cruiser, about ten years past her prime. Someone had dismantled half her guns and replaced them with radio telescopes. More were mounted on the hull, the entire ship resembling a seafaring vessel, covered in barnacles.

Poe brought Black One alongside her and waited for the relay of coordinates that would allow him to dock. Flanking his right, Snap's job was to make sure nothing went wrong. He could have done this without the additional resources, but General Organa had insisted.

Six hours in hyperspace had left him twitchy, but it was nothing compared to the three days he'd spent holed up in his quarters, waiting for Leia's techs to come up with a point of origin. First Order transmissions were a hot commodity, especially after Starkiller. Poe got his off a dealer on a station above Pujool, who apparently got it off Sando's boys, who apparently got it here, off some repurposed battle cruiser floating above Nkllon.

"Beebee-Ate, we got clearance yet?" he asked, trying and failing to hide his annoyance. They were so close. He knew it this time, all his instincts telling him this was it--this was the lead the were looking for, the thing that would turn the tides: the thing that would bring Finn home.

"Alright, alright," he said midway through BB-8's explanation. These things took time. There were protocols. Clearances. He knew that, and yet...

A trill from the back of the ship set him grinning. He listened intently while BB-8 relayed the coordinates and then brought Black One around.

Docking an x-wing wasn't exactly easy, starfighters not meant to interface with cruisers. He managed it, though only because the hangar had been converted to accept larger shuttles, whoever was running this show obviously dealing on the premises. It set his teeth on edge, Poe not particularly fond of anyone whose primary motivation was money. Things had a way of going sideways where money was involved.

"Snap, I'm taking her in. Keep your comm open. You see anything that looks off, jump back immediately," he said, better safe than sorry. "Beebee-Ate, scan their frequencies." If this was another trap, he wanted to know about it, preferably sooner rather than later.

The man waiting for him after he'd docked was human, though paler than anyone Poe had ever met. Not enough time planetside, he suspected, the dark circles under the man's eyes confirmation enough. He was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, though Poe couldn't tell if it was a nervous tic or an indication of guilt. His scans had shown no other ships in the vicinity, and aside from a service droid, there were no other lifeforms on board. Still, he disembarked Black One cautiously, blaster ready at his side. BB-8 remained with the ship.

"You Padwal?" Poe asked. The man nodded.

"That's me, that's me," he answered. Poe reconsidered his initial impression.

Padwal was nervous, clearly, but Poe didn't think it was subterfuge. Instead Padwal looked vaguely terrified, like he half expected Poe to pull his blaster and gun him down. Poe let some of his alertness drain, his shoulders dropping. He adopted a loose swagger, a persona that had served him well in the past.

"I'm looking for intel," he said, "something I heard you could provide, for a price."

It was like pricking a balloon, all of Padwal's tension draining. He smiled, ugly set of crooked teeth filling his mouth. Poe wondered how long he'd been out here, alone, living on the edge of the galaxy, intercepting other people's signals. The isolation hadn't been kind.

"You want intel, I can get you intel," Padwal said, and then he was moving, ushering Poe from the hangar and into a long, vaguely claustrophobic corridor Poe figured led to the bridge.

He talked as they walked, a half slurred explanation of the kinds of intel he could provide. The ship, he explained, had been converted, designed now to intercept any signal that passed his location. Trade routes, shipping cycles, cargo manifests. The kind of thing that might interest a pirate. It wasn't a stretch to suggest they made up the bulk of Padwal's clientele.

"I need something a little bigger," Poe interrupted.

"Bigger?" Padwal said, stopping. His eyes grew wide. He lowered his voice. "Yes, yes, I recognized your frequency. Resistance. You want information on the First Order."

That Padwal knew he was Resistance wasn't so much a surprise as it was informative. The man before him, small and unintimidating, was undoubtedly more dangerous than Poe had first assumed. He'd underestimated the situation, a mistake he wouldn't make again.

"Dozens of transmissions coming out," Padwal was saying, "fortifying troops, increased recruiting. They're building an army. Another army, anyway."

That was of interest, of course, though Poe doubted Padwal knew anything more than the Resistance. He briefly considered asking if he knew the location of General Hux's new flagship, that one of the key pieces of information the Resistance couldn't gleam, but the odds were against it. The Resistance had gone to great lengths to keep General Organa out of sight, so it stood to reason the First Order would do the same. Besides, he wasn't here for Hux.

"Not what I'm interested in," Poe said. They were moving again, blast doors at the end of the hall opening to reveal the bridge, or what was once a bridge. The entire space was filled end to end with transmitters, narrow corridors of access the only space that remained. How Padwal piloted the ship was beyond Poe, even the helm buried under equipment.

"A week or so ago I got my hands on something that originated here."

Poe handed over a memory chip. Padwal turned it between his fingers and then plugged it into a datareader. He stared at the output, brow knitting together in an obvious display of confusion. Poe waited.

"This is nothing. Of no significance. This didn't come from me," he said.

"We traced the originating signature here," Poe told him.

"Well, maybe, but I didn't sell it. It's garbage. A list, nothing more. Stormtrooper caloric needs. Why would the Resistance care about this?"

And here Poe had a decision to make: show his cards or attempt a bluff. Any other circumstance, he would have bluffed, but this was different, the information Poe required too specific for anything but full disclosure.

"We're looking for someone. A stormtrooper." Poe pointed to the screen. FN-2187 sat at the top of the list, the oldest designation by far. Poe suspected those numbered before him had died on Starkiller, those after newly risen into the ranks.

The transmission's stardate was three weeks old, which meant that as of then FN-2187 required 3120 calories per day in rations, but more importantly, it meant that as of three weeks ago Finn was still alive.

"We're hoping you can help us find his ship assignment."

Padwal was looking at Poe like he was crazy, like he was surprised the Resistance didn't have better things to do than track down specific stormtroopers. Twice he opened his mouth, and twice he closed it, before he finally settled on shaking his head.

"You're asking the impossible. I can't cherry pick what I hear. It just comes across the wire." He gestured around the room, as though his equipment might better make the point. Poe was prepared for this.

"I'm not asking you to go searching for the information. You said it yourself, this is garbage, not something you sold, which means you picked it up by accident and it got included with something more important. I'm asking you to go back and review what you've already collected, see if you can't weed out a little more trash."

He'd known even before he asked that the task was monumental. Not impossible, though, and that was the key. Padwal was still looking at Poe like Poe had asked him to walk across the surface of a sun. He shook his head. Poe removed a credit chip from his pocket and set it on the data console between them.

"The Resistance is prepared to pay handsomely for this information," he said.

That wasn't entirely true. Leia had given him access to some funds, but the rest were Poe's, an entire life's savings plus a little extra he'd borrowed from his dad. Padwal glanced from Poe to the credit chip and back again. After a moment's hesitation, he deftly traded the memory chip for the credit chip, eyes bulging when he saw the figure on offer. He wet his lips.

"This is..."

"Half just for looking. The other half if you find something," Poe said. Padwal began nodding.

"Yeah, yeah, I can look, I can look," he said. Poe released a breath, only then realizing he'd been holding it.

"How long?" Poe asked, because that was important. Old information had a way of becoming useless. The sooner he had a direction, the better.

"Couple days, give or take," Padwal said. He was still staring at the datareader, Poe's figure displayed in bright red text.

Days, Poe thought. It was still too damned long, but he'd waited longer, a couple days nothing in the grand scheme of things; not if it helped him find Finn.

"You got a week, tops," Poe said, already dreading what would arguably become the longest week of his life.

~*~

 

_The retrieval team wasn't used to having a pilot in their midst. Too bad, Poe felt like telling them. He outranked everyone here, which meant he called the shots when it came to deciding when they would leave._

_Aris was deserted. By all logic it shouldn't have been. Two days ago they'd arrived expecting to find a communications outpost. Two days ago they'd found a fully operational base and now there was nothing. No TIE fighters, no stormtroopers, just abandoned infrastructure that looked suspiciously like a communications relay. Poe grit his teeth in frustration._

_"It's been too long," he said into his comlink, reluctantly slowing to match the methodical pace of his search unit._

_"We don't know that. We don't know anything yet," Jessika Pava replied. She was somewhere above them, Black Squadron acting as eyes in the sky, covering the searchers on the ground. A waste of resources given the current desolation._

_"We know the last time we were here this place was crawling with stormtroopers. We know we're missing eleven Resistance fighters. We know we had to wait two damned days for clearance to come back and look for them, retrieve their damned remains, and then only because I disobeyed a direct order and came back on my own."_

_And found Aris deserted, which made absolutely no kind of sense so Poe could be forgiven for being a little short on temper. Still..._

_"Shit, sorry, Pava. You didn't deserve that."_

_"It's fine, Poe. We all want to get Finn home. The others, too."_

_Poe nodded at that, even knowing Jessika couldn't see him. He'd thought finding Aris abandoned was a gift; expected to fly down and find the missing infantry holed up somewhere, cut off from their shuttle but able to tough it out until the cavalry arrived. He imagined landing his x-wing amongst the dense tangle of forest, Finn striding towards him. "Took your damned time," he'd say, and Poe would laugh and then maybe sweep him off his feet and..._

_"Sir," a voice echoed over the comlink, one of the medics, a young kid named Janson who'd helped patch Poe up after the Finalizer._

_"Go ahead," Poe said. They were midway from the shuttle drop point to the comm tower, Poe's team one of four currently sweeping the Aris jungle. Janson he thought was closer to the tower. Something ugly twisted in Poe's gut._

_"We've found them," Janson replied, though there was nothing of celebration in his tone. Poe signalled his team to keep searching, and then took off at a run. He arrived breathless, fear and Aris' sticky heat caught in his lungs._

_He'd known--of course he'd known, even before he'd come, two days too long to go without receiving a single transmission, not even an sos. But knowing and seeing where two different things. A pilot rained fire from above, but it wasn't often they had to face the consequences of their destruction. Seeing it now, the catastrophe of battle, it was too much. Poe's legs grew weak, his stomach pitching violently._

_A lifetime of training and experience kept him standing--and from sicking up, though retching sounds from outside the tower suggested not everyone had fared as well. The bodies were in close proximity to one another, half of them lying on their fronts, wounds in the back. They'd been ambushed then, taken by surprise. What remained was barely human. What insects and animals had missed the heat and humidity had taken care of. That left identification by dog tag. Poe didn't envy anyone the task._

_"Get some bags up here," he ordered, not particularly caring who obeyed. He was too busy counting, but no matter how many times he circled the room there were only ever nine sets of remains. Hope burst in his chest, a treacherous bloom._

_The team who'd found the remains were medics, first responders, hardly any old enough to have seen battle first hand, but they knew their job, so he left them to it, stealing his breath as he approached a pair of well-worn boots._

_They didn't belong to Finn--neither did the clothes--but Poe still checked the tag. One by one he did the same for the others, but none of them were Finn. Of the eleven missing they'd found nine. Poe spun a slow circle. Where were the other two?_

_"Spread out," he told his search unit when they arrived. "I want this whole jungle scoured. I don't care how long it takes."_

_It was better work than bagging bodies, so no one in his unit complained. They extended their grid beyond the tower, to where Poe had seen the First Order shuttle rising from the trees. The Aris atmosphere was heavy, oppressive dampness suggesting impending rain. Growing up on Yavin 4, he knew rain would bring little if any relief, but wanted it all the same, if only to ease the stifling pressure._

_"Here," someone called just as sky opened, fat drops splattering against them. Poe's heart caught in his throat._

_He wasn't sure he could handle seeing Finn like the others, left to rot in the hot Aris sun, but there was no way in hell he was leaving Finn out here so he forced himself to the edge of a shallow clearing, shuttle blast marks scorched into the ground._

_The relief of not finding a body was damned near staggering. Poe exhaling sharply, his head swimming. It took several long seconds to process what he was seeing._

_A Resistance issued blaster, lying unperturbed, the ground around it torn and trampled, a struggle having obviously ensued. "Stormtroopers," someone said, pointing out the boot prints criss-crossing the increasingly soggy ground. There were dozens of them, but that wasn't what interested Poe. Instead he sank to his knees, hand darting out to sink fingers in the mud, twin depressions unmistakable._

_He flashed back to Jakku, remembering then the dry packed earth shattering beneath his knees. An ugly thought took shape. New terror seized in his chest._

_"You there Jess?" he asked into his comlink. Beyond the depressions, boot prints made their way back to the scorch marks, twin lines dragged between two sets. Whoever they'd taken hadn't gone willingly._

_"Whadda need?" she asked._

_"That shuttle," Poe answered, seeing it then, how easy it would have been to shoot it down, how something had stayed his hand. "We get its telemetry?"_

_"I don't know," Jess said. "I don't think so. Why? You don't think..."_

_"I think we were never meant to be here. I think," he said, speaking very slowly "this was a setup from the start."_

_He glanced up then, taking in the dense tangle of Aris' jungle, the aged infrastructure scattered throughout. None of it looked particularly well maintained, certainly not enough to warrant an entire regiment. Why were they there, then? More importantly, if his suspicions were correct, then someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get them here, and for what? Finn?_

_"We need telemetry on that ship, Jess. Get back to base and start working on it," he ordered, already heading back to the transport shuttle, leaving his search unit to finish their sweep, knowing they wouldn't find anything.  
_

 

VIII.

Stormtrooper barracks held sixteen bunks, four units stacked one on top of the other. During the day, white light filled the room, the glare of it blinding. At night it was worse, the room bathed in angry red, but in this moment he would have traded light for dark, anything to ease the pounding of his head.

He sat at the end of his bunk, barely moving. He knew he needed to stand; undress and join his unit in the showers. The data-readout in his helmet had told him as much, before he'd pulled it off and set it aside, no longer able to bear the flickering red text of his HUD display. Instead he continued to stare across the room, to the far wall where a picture of General Hux sat on display, First Order insignia at his back.

More red, this time superimposed over white and black. Some of the stormtroopers like to press their fingers against the insignia as they left the room. Not FN-2187. He avoided it entirely, another defect that set him apart.

It was worse since his accident, the others sensing his weakness. They were only as strong as their weakest link. Captain Phasma's words, and yet here he was, still on light duty, removed from his unit more often than not. No wonder they eyed him sideways; stopped speaking entirely whenever he entered the room.

He wasn't doing himself any favours by hiding in his bunk, and FN-2187 desperately needed a shower--Phasma's version of light duty included a week in sanitation. Gritting his teeth, he stood, and then waited for the room to stop spinning so that he could begin the systematic removal of his armour. When he was finished, he made his way to the end of the row, where a set of sliding doors separated the barracks from the freshers.

He heard the others long before he set foot in the room, their conversation continuing, FN-2187's arrival going unnoticed. That wasn't out of the ordinary. They never involved him in their camaraderie, FN-2187 designated something other, no matter how hard he strived to fit in.

He paused inside the change room to peel off his bodysuit, wisps of their conversation reaching his ears. It didn't take long for him to realize they were discussing him.

"Does he even know?" someone asked. FN-2187 suspected it was FN-3099.

"Would you?" someone else answered. FN-3610, he thought. That meant it was FN-4003 who laughed.

"Nah, but you guys would tell me, right?" Ninety-Nine asked. He sounded honestly concerned. No one answered. FN-2187 held his breath.

He could see them now, the foggy outline of three bodies separated by chest-high stall dividers. FN-4003 tipped his head back under the spray. "Why'd you think they did it?" he asked when he surfaced.

"You're kidding, right?" Ninety-Nine replied. "Have you not heard him screaming? Every kriffin' night. I had to requisition ear plugs."

Unbidden, a memory surfaced, FN-3610's face appearing above his bunk, dark circles where his eyes should have been. _Ninety-Nine reported you_ , he said, and then he was gone, the memory crumbling around him, FN-2187 scrambling to gather its pieces.

Had it happened, he wondered, no longer sure. It wasn't like he hadn't considered it. Wake up in the infirmary and it was pretty much the first thing that came to mind. Wake up missing a huge chunk of memory and, well... FN-2187 wasn't stupid.

He chose then to make his presence known, in part because their allotted shower time was coming to a close, but mostly because he could no longer bear the things they were saying. They spotted him almost immediately, the resulting silence as incriminating as anything they might have said.

"Eight-Seven," Ten said, looking ready to bolt. FN-2187 chose the stall on his right.

"Did they recondition me?" he asked without preamble. No one answered. It was all the confirmation he needed. "Did I do something bad?" he pressed, because the worst part about not knowing was not knowing what he'd done to get there in the first place. It was hard to correct unsanctioned behaviour when you didn't know which behaviours qualified as unsanctioned.

"You were having nightmares," Ten said after a particularly long minute of silence. FN-2187 nodded to himself.

"I guess it's for the best then," he lied, feeling then that he ought to have been angrier. Instead there was only more of the same careful blankness, acceptance that tore him to his core. At the very least it broke the spell, the others returning to their camaraderie, FN-2187 disappearing under the spray.

 

IX.

"You wished to see me, Sir."

General Hux's summoning had taken her out of a training simulation, LS squad hastily re-assigned logistics detail in the middle of a simulation. It was embarrassing, and unprofessional. Finding Hux with Kylo Ren heightened her annoyance.

They stood together inside an empty assembly hall, two of Kylo Ren's troopers positioned outside the door. Neither Hux nor Ren spoke, though their shared stance suggested they'd exchanged words, none of them polite.

Kylo Ren glowered beneath his mask, or at least Phasma imagined him doing so. Certainly if Hux's expression was any indication their conversation wasn't amicable. For a frustratingly long minute she stood on the periphery of their impasse, waiting on orders.

"I understand, Captain," Hux eventually said. He didn't bother turning to face her, his gaze still locked on the eyeless sockets of Ren's mask. "You are now reporting to Kylo Ren."

He wasn't speaking to her, his words a warning for Kylo Ren, though Phasma could have told him it would make little difference. Their posturing had long been a source of irritation, but today, summoned like a call girl in front of her troops... Phasma allowed warning to seep into her tone.

"I was ordered to keep him apprised of FN-2187's progress," she said, a rail against the unclear lines of command she'd long known would be their undoing. Hux pivoted to face her, his expression incredulous. Hidden behind her mask, Phasma permitted herself a smile.

He could make no argument against her, but more than that he knew she commanded the loyalty of the troops, so eventually he turned his attention back to Ren, this time circling slowly around him, as though doing so might remind Ren of his position. Ren watched the display, his body language conveying barely concealed boredom.

"I'm curious," Hux eventually said without stopping. He finished a complete circle and began another. "Surely by now you know the girl isn't coming. We haven't been able to get a word out of him, though I very much doubt he knows anything. The Resistance isn't stupid. They wouldn't have trusted a turncoat stormtrooper with their secrets. So I'll ask again: what is your interest in him?"

Here he paused, standing now directly before Ren, the same position Phasma had found them in upon entering the room.

"Our orders were clear. Rebuild our armies and destroy the Resistance. Supreme Leader Snoke may allow you your side projects, but you've wasted tremendous resources getting him here. Why?"

Ren seemed unfazed by Hux's intimidation technique, poor as it was. Phasma half imagined him smiling, amusement showing in the roll of his shoulders, the sloped line of his spine.

"Perhaps you should ask Supreme Leader Snoke," he quipped. Across from him, Hux stiffened.

Phasma half expected a biting retort--her annoyance growing at having been summoned, it seemed, purely to watch this display. Instead Hux settled, his expression becoming contemplative, head tilting in consideration.

"I wonder," he said, smile now tugging at his lips. He shook his head. "You're playing a very dangerous game, Ren, one I don't doubt will cost us all."

To Phasma he added, "From this point forward your reports on FN-2187 will come to me. I will decide what's necessary to share." He turned back to Ren. "Or should we discuss this matter with the Supreme Leader?"

She expected another quip, but to her surprise Ren remained silent. He was seething now, Phasma fully aware he had no rights to Hux's men. Snoke, on the other hand, could override them both. Ren's silence, then, was telling.

"Of course," Phasma said, saluting. It was as close as she could bring herself to request dismissal. To her relief Hux granted it with a wave of his hand. She left them then, still staring each other down, Phasma now late to engage the ZB squad. Between Ren's games, whatever they were, and Hux's pride, the First Order stood little hope of achieving its goals.


	4. Chapter 4

//

Having people care about his well being was hard to put into context, Finn without a frame of reference. The First Order didn't fix broken stormtroopers. They would have left him to die in the snow, his only consolation the hypothermia that would have guaranteed him a relatively painless death.

Not the Resistance, though he'd been taught otherwise. The Resistance, according to the First Order, was comprised entirely of thieves and murderers, men and women without honour who'd turn on each other at the first sign of trouble. Finn tried to imagine General Organa, or Dr. Kalonia, or even Poe turning on anyone, and couldn't. A younger him would have assumed he'd missed something, but that was then and this was now and Finn didn't need a new spine to know he'd finally come down on the side of light.

"One more step, come on, I know you can do it."

He tried to picture Kala Sen as a threat, but First Order simulations were strangely devoid of physiotherapist combatants, Finn seeing only withered skin and determined eyes. She'd coaxed him the entire length of the parallel bars with nothing more than kind words and eager praise, hardly the Resistance scum First Order propaganda would have had him believe. Finn shook his head.

"I can't," he said through gritted teeth, hating this sudden weakness.

More than that, the admission pained him, though he knew that was First Order conditioning. The First Order didn't have room for damaged stormtroopers. There you pulled your weight or got left behind. Here warm eyes and a patient smile beckoned him forward.

"You managed twelve yesterday," Kala said, the same tone she'd used this morning when scolding her children for running in the halls.

"Yesterday was different," Finn said. Yesterday his legs had cooperated. Today they were limp beneath him, Finn's arms doing all the work, muscles trembling with tension.

"Different, right," Kala said. An amused smile spread across her face. "Should I invite Dameron to attend all your sessions then? You do seem to do better when he's here."

He didn't fall, though it was a near thing, Finn's elbows locking to keep him upright. He knew she was teasing--understood the concept; had spent enough time overhearing snippets of other people's conversations to know banter was an acceptable part of Resistance life--but aside from Poe's gentle encouragement, no one had thought to include him in the ritual. Finn wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

Apparently it didn't matter, his silence enough to set her laughing, though she did take pity and bring him his chair. He hated the thing, but it was better than standing, newly regenerated nerves not yet strong enough to support his weight. Six more weeks, she'd told him. Six more weeks and all of this would be over. Finn could get back to doing something useful. 

"Speaking of, I told your boy he could fetch you after our session, if you're not too tired."

She got him situated as she spoke, Finn too distracted by pain and embarrassment to fully appreciate her words. They hit him a second later, halfway across the room, Finn struck by the sudden realization that Poe was probably waiting for him outside the physio room doors.

"He's not my..." Finn fumbled, unsure how to best phrase his objection. Kala laughed.

"If you say so," she said, sounding utterly unconvinced.

He didn't get the chance to explain, the doors opening to reveal a somewhat frantic-looking Poe. He froze when he spotted them, pinched expression vanishing behind a brilliant smile. Finn returned it, anticipation, sharp and unexpected, bursting across his chest.

"She told me I wasn't allowed to sit in anymore, that I distract you," Poe said, levelling a glare in Kala's direction.

He started moving then, coming to stand behind Finn's chair, Finn forced to crane his neck to keep Poe in his line of sight.

"I suspect she's probably changed her mind," Finn said, earning Poe's immediate attention.

The warmth of his gaze was nothing new, but three weeks of near constant companionship was obviously not enough to desensitize Finn to it. His breath caught in his throat, new heat staining his cheeks.

"I only managed nine today," he admitted, chagrined. Poe's smile grew soft, creases appearing in the corners of his eyes.

"Nine is good," he said.

"Twelve is better," Kala interjected, drawing both of their attention. She gave Poe a pointed look, one that made him stand a little straighter, his smile growing smug.

"Nine is still good," he insisted, this time keeping her gaze. Finn stared between them, only half following their conversation. Eventually he grew tired of waiting and cleared his throat. Kala laughed. Poe ducked his head.

"We," Poe said, stressing the word, "will see you tomorrow."

He didn't give Kala a chance to respond--or Finn a chance to object--before gathering Finn and wheeling him from the room. At the junction to the medical bay, Poe turned right instead of left, Finn familiar enough now with Poe's whims not to question it.

"You know, I am capable of getting around on my own," Finn said at one point, though he didn't bother uncrossing his arms. There was no point in protesting--they'd had this conversation before, Finn's embarrassment long since replaced by fond exasperation.

"Trust me, I know it. Let me feel useful for a change, will ya?"

Another right brought them into the long corridor that ran the length of the base. Poe navigated them around piles of haphazardly stacked supply crates, the Resistance base short on space, every available inch filled to capacity. At one point they were forced to backtrack, taking a side junction because Poe couldn't get Finn's chair past a hulking, outdated terminal unit, the corridor serving as much a junkyard as it did a passageway. In addition to being an eyesore, it was also likely a deathtrap. Finn stamped down the impulse to file a complaint.

Phasma would have had a fit.

"Do I get to know why you're smiling?" Poe asked, bringing them back into the main corridor.

Finn considered. "I was just admiring the clutter," he said, gesturing around them. "This would drive the First Order crazy."

Poe laughed, bright and open, Finn finding that he liked the sound; that he very much wanted to hear it again.

"So we defeat the First Order with disorder," Poe said. They left the corridor at the next junction, this time coming into the hangar deck. Finn spotted Poe's x-wing nestled amongst the others.

"You know, we probably could. Infiltrate a few ships, wreak havoc with supply chain management. It would drive the senior officers mad. Might make them abandon their cause," Finn mused. Poe barked another laugh.

"See, I knew there was a reason I helped you steal that TIE fighter. Man with a plan, I like it."

They'd come through the other side of the hangar, Poe taking them out onto the flight deck, the open air startlingly warm. It marked the first time Finn had been outside since Starkiller. Damp humidity filled his lungs, rejuvenating in a way the medical bay's recycled air was not. Finn took a deep breath and closed his eyes, wide smile dimpling his cheeks.

When he opened them, he found they'd stopped, Poe having brought them to the end of the flight deck, away from the hustle and bustle of the flight crew, where they could watch the comings and goings of the supply shuttles without getting in the way. Poe took a seat across from him, perching on the end of an overturned fuel cell. He watched Finn with open curiosity, vibrant energy rolling from him in waves.

"Thought you might like a change of scenery, and there's only a few weeks before the start of rainy season, so I figured we'd enjoy it while we could," he said, sounding oddly hesitant, though his gaze never wavered. Finn swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. Not even Rey had looked at him with such intensity, Finn overwhelmed by it.

"Thank you for this," he eventually managed, earning a raised eyebrow. "I'm seriously, thank you."

"You're welcome," Poe answered.

"You gonna get in trouble for this?" Finn asked, gesturing to their surroundings. He stretched as he spoke, surprised to find he could wiggle his toes without too much trouble. He did it again, and again, just because he could.

"Nah, I got permission," Poe replied, which was probably a load of bantha fodder. Outside of PT he was assigned to bedrest. Those were Dr. Kalonia's instructions, which meant Kala was in on it too, Finn oddly touched by their breach of protocol.

"Just get me back before she notices," he said, earning another of Poe's laughs.

Finn let it wash over him, feeling then like he'd spent a lifetime craving the sound. He tipped his head back, once again closing his eyes, this time against the bright D'Qar sun. He recognized the gesture was meant to be a small one, a chance for fresh air after weeks cooped up inside, but no one had ever done something like this for him before, Finn moved beyond the capacity for words. He wanted to tell Poe as much, to explain what this meant, but when he opened his eyes...

//

X.

He found himself staring at the gun-metal grey walls of the cargo hold. FN-2187 blinked, whatever memory he'd accessed already beginning to recede. He tried reaching for it, but it was like trying to catch the edge of a dream, translucent strands slipping between his fingers.

 _No_ , he wanted to shout, _come back_ , but already the details were beginning to fade, only vague shadows remaining: a warm afternoon sun; damp air, heavy in his lungs; a wild, erratic fluttering in his chest. His mind reeled. _What was that?_. Piece by piece the image shattered, accompanying sensations dissolving into nothingness, blankness that was so familiar he began to understand its source. They'd taken something from him. Something that rang with importance. Why would they do that? What could he have possibly done to deserve its loss? A lifetime of obedience and loyalty, and for what?

Inside his helmet, FN-2187's breath grew ragged.

This too felt familiar, though he could not identify its source. Spots obscured his vision, the walls seeming to compress until there was only the need for escape. _Get out_ , his mind screamed, though there was nowhere to go, the cargo bay impossibly open, his unit one of four charged with unloading a newly arrived freighter.

 _Keep it together_. He forced himself to take deep, steadying breaths. They did little to ease the frantic pounding of his heart. A hand on his elbow startled him enough that he jumped, nearly knocking over a pallet of neatly stacked ammunition rounds.

"Whoa, easy," said the trooper. FN-2187's HUD display registered him as FN-3610.

"I'm fine," FN-2187 immediately lied, feeling then the full weight of Ten's scrutiny.

"Storeroom's a mess," Ten said after an extended pause. "We won't fit all these in there unless someone takes care of it."

He jerked his head towards the back of the cargo bay, where the ammunitions storeroom door stood open. FN-2187 glanced between it and the pallet several times before Ten's meaning became clear. Only Ten's hand on his elbow kept him from pitching forward in his relief.

"I'll take care of it," FN-2187 managed to get out.

The storeroom wasn't much bigger than a supply closet, most of the actual storage done beneath the decks. An access panel in the middle of the room brought the racks up as needed. Once inside, FN-2187 slipped behind it.

The storeroom was also meticulously organized. Phasma wouldn't allow anything less. Still, FN-2187 was grateful at having been given the opportunity for solitude. Crouching down so that no one would see him, he removed his helmet.

And wondered why he hadn't before. Doing so immediately cleared his vision, his breath no longer coming in ragged pants. He turned the helmet over in his hands, thinking perhaps it was malfunctioning. He could no longer recall what had brought him here. He felt he should, could see no reason for having forgotten, and yet he could retrace his every step and there was nothing.

How far back did it go? He remembered this morning, being assigned to the cargo bay. He remembered yesterday, his first day back on full duty. He knew they'd reconditioned him--nightmares Ten had said--remembered waking up in the infirmary. He remembered the training simulation before that, receiving a blow to the head in hand-to-hand combat...

Except, that wasn't a memory. Those were Phasma's words. How long was the gap? FN-2187 shook his head.

It didn't make sense. He was missing something, but it wasn't a blow to the head or even an isolated nightmare. The blankness felt impossibly large, a great chasm that went beyond a few days lost to reconditioning. Had they reconditioned him before? And if so, how many times? His ragged breathing had returned, FN-2187 instinctively reaching for his shoulder, fingers curling behind to touch the spot on his armour that hid his scar. Something unpleasant twisted in his gut.

He tried retracing back beyond the training simulation, but found only fractured pieces that didn't quite fit together. It was like trying to assemble a blaster only to realize you were missing half its components. He was struck then with a sudden, cold realization. Not only had they'd reconditioned him before, but if they found out he knew, they'd do it again.

A part of him recoiled at the thought, his first impulse to immediately affirm his loyalty. He served the First Order, his existence devoted to helping the First Order reclaim the Empire. To question that was treason, and yet...

Something was missing. Something... important. He might not have known what they'd taken, but he knew he couldn't let them take anything else. He needed a plan. He needed.

A way off the ship.

The thought was terrifying, new panic seizing in his chest. It ran contrary to everything he knew, and yet immediately he knew it was the right decision. The certainty of it settled in his chest, comfortable in a way it shouldn't have been. He needed to get as far from the First Order as he could, and to do that he first needed a way off the ship.

But that wasn't going to happen if he gave them a reason to send him back for reconditioning--and for all he knew they already had, FN-2187 terrified to think he'd been here before. Already the odds were stacked against him. He didn't think FN-3610 would report him, but how many others had noticed his retreat into the storeroom? It really only left him one option.

 _You can do this_ , he thought to himself as he slid his helmet back into place. The panic was still there, but now there was focus, that and a certainty he'd made the right choice. FN-2187 stood from where he was crouched behind the access panel. He released a shaky breath, and then headed back to join his unit.

 

XI.

Six days. Padwal had estimated two. Poe had given him a week. Depending on the calendar, he was already a day late. He also wasn't answering Poe's requests.

"Don't do this to yourself," Jessika said. She slid into the seat across from him, setting her helmet down on the table. Aside from the two of them, the mess hall was empty.

"Shouldn't you be out on reconnaissance," Poe asked. He remembered giving that order, Iolo leading Poe's squadron so that Poe could sit here and wait.

"Just got back," Jess answered. She tapped her helmet for emphasis. Poe rolled his eyes.

He wanted a caf, maybe something to eat, neither of which were happening until the canteen reopened in the morning. Mostly, though, he wanted word from Padwal, something, anything that might get them closer to finding Finn.

"Poe," Jess tried again. Poe cut her off with a raised hand.

"Look, I appreciate this, I do, but you can't make this better. No one can. I..." He trailed off, words failing him entirely. Across the table, Jessika looked about as exhausted as he felt. Poe deflated. "You should get some sleep."

"Poe, none of this was your fault." She reached across the table as she spoke, her touch startlingly cold.

"I know that. That's not what this is about." And it wasn't. He was well past playing the blame game. He wasn't omnipotent. He couldn't have known his intel was planted. And Finn was his own man. He knew the risks and made his own choices, and Poe wasn't about to take that from him. So the only thing Poe failed at was not tagging a departing First Order shuttle, and if he was honest, he was damned lucky he didn't blow the thing out of the sky.

"You wanna tell me what this is about then?" Jess asked. A quick glance across the table found her rooted in her spot, Jess in it for the long haul. Poe sighed.

"I just need him back," he said, not sure how to better explain.

"And we'll get him back, we will, one way or another, I promise you that." Here she paused to push a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Look, I know you two were..."

Poe didn't let her finish. "We weren't, actually," he said. Any other circumstance he might have savored Jessika's shock. Six days into the longest wait of his life, he was tired.

"We were... working on it," he confessed, though even that didn't sound right. How to explain a relationship that included spending countless hours in one another's company, constant flirting, exchanged glances and furtive touches without ever having it cross into something more. They were working on it, but then maybe that was just Poe; maybe all Finn ever had to offer was friendship.

He could tell by Jess's expression she didn't believe him, but then maybe she did and just couldn't process their collective obliviousness. Had they had this conversation before Finn... well, Poe might have agreed.

"It doesn't matter," he said, mostly to displace the sympathy in Jess's eyes. "Cause we're getting him back," he finished, firmer this time, as though by saying it out loud he could dispel the doubt creeping into his heart. Across the table, Jessika nodded, her expression growing resolute.

"We will," she assured him, anything else she might have said replaced by the chirping of Poe's comlink.

It was Padwal.


	5. Chapter 5

XII.

Her etching pen didn't cut as easily into stone as it did metal. Inside the walker, marking the passage of days was simple, an afterthought at the end of a long day. Here each line required patience, deep grooves worn by a steady hand; careful precision.

Rey brought her pen up for another pass.

"You do realize you are defacing a site of some historical significance."

Rey permitted herself a small smile. She'd sensed him coming long before he spoke, the Force emanating from him in pulsing waves. But that wasn't what gave her pause. For the first time she'd sensed something beyond that, Luke's disapproval coloured by faint amusement.

"I'm hardly the only one," she told him, gesturing over her shoulder, across the room, to where a game of crosses was cut into the rock. She felt rather than saw him blush.

"The first few months were... difficult," he admitted. She could imagine, but then there were 322 lines carved into her wall.

She finished the 323rd before turning to face him, etching pen still clutched in her hand. "Has it gotten any easier?" she asked, honestly curious. His gaze grew distant.

She knew so little about him, save the legend behind his name. Almost a year and he remained as mysterious now as he did the day they met. She missed Finn, and Han, and Chewie. A lifetime spent alone and somehow those three found their way into her heart, Rey near suffocated by their absences.

"Yes and no," he told her, "but it will get easier for you." He meant it as a promise, she realized, Rey oddly touched by the gesture. She wasn't entirely sure she believed him. Han's passing was still a gaping wound, while Finn's predicament weighing on her every waking hour. Chewie at least was safe, though she wished he'd chosen to remain with her on Ahch-To.

"It's been 112 days," she told him, without needing to elaborate. He glanced once to her column, gaze undoubtedly drawn to the single + amidst rows upon rows of lines.

"You care deeply for him," he said. It wasn't the first time they'd discussed Finn, but today she felt flayed open, stripped down to her very core.

"He's... my friend," she tried. It earned her a raised eyebrow. Rey was quick to shake her head.

"It's not like that." She paused then, trying to put all that she felt into words. "I spent my whole life waiting for my family..." She knew now they weren't coming--were never coming--but that was neither here nor there, her parents fates inconsequential given the momentousness of her task.

"Finn is the closest thing I have to family now. There has to be something more we can do."

Twice now she'd reached him, but only once had he reached back, Rey terrified by the emptiness she'd found the last time she looked. It frustrated her as much as it did not knowing his location. She could pinpoint him precisely, but translating a feeling into coordinates was beyond her, Rey fast succumbing to frustration.

"Don't lose hope," Luke said. His expression grew considering. He nodded to the wall. "How long before our next transmission."

Rey followed his gaze, transmission dates marked with a single dot above their line. "17 days," she said, the time needed to map a new relay system, a necessary caution against the First Order learning their location.

"Will they have found him by then?" he asked. Something sparked in Rey's chest.

"Can we go?" she asked, bolting forward, her entire body trembling with need.

Luke held up a hand.

"If they find him, and you are ready, I won't stop you from going."

It wasn't a promise, but it was more than he'd offered before. Still, she didn't miss his apprehension. He'd retreated again, Luke vanishing, replaced by a legend Rey wasn't entirely sure she'd found.

"You're not coming," she said. It wasn't a question.

She understood his reasoning, or at least, she thought she did. He grappled with it still, doubt creeping into their training. Kylo Ren's wound cut deep. Rey understood only a fraction of his anguish.

"My path lies elsewhere," he told her, mysterious as ever, "and you are not yet ready to walk yours."

She was, she wanted to tell him, but she knew that wasn't true. Her entire life was spent relying solely on herself, learning as much as she could as fast as she could so that she could stay one step ahead. All of that was useless here, the Force not an engine she could take a part, or a ship she could pilot. Learning to use the Force took time, and time was the one thing Finn didn't have.

"What do I need to do?" she asked.

For a long minute Luke didn't answer. He watched her, as though debating her readiness. Rey stood resolute, unmoved by his scrutiny. Eventually he nodded, whatever decision he debated apparently made.

"Come," he told her, gesturing away from her column, its strength eroded under the weight of 323 days.

She followed without hesitation.

 

XIII.

"You do realize this is probably a trap."

Snap had a way of stating the obvious. It was one of the things Poe appreciated about him, just not today. He pulled his flight suit up over his shoulders before answering.

"Yep."

A zipper, six snaps and then the vest. It was easier to focus on flight prep than it was to think about the million ways this could go wrong.

"But you're going anyway," Snap continued.

Poe thought back to Padwal's call, hearing again the strange tension in his voice, the distant static of a signal being relayed over a second transmission. His instructions were too specific, the rendezvous far too coordinated to be anything other than a trap. The question was: was he a First Order plant, or a First Order sympathizer? They were two entirely different things. Poe hoped it was the latter. He'd had far too many dealings with the former.

"You don't have to come," Poe said, connecting his respirator.

"And let you have all the fun? Not likely. I would, however, like an idea of what we're walking into."

Poe smirked at that, because Snap also had a way of cutting to the chase, another reason Poe liked him.

"And that would be why we're having a briefing," he said, nodding over Snap's shoulder, to where Kare, Iolo and Jess were waiting by their starfighters. Poe waved them over.

"Got word from our contact," he said when they arrived. "And apparently he's found what we're looking for." He paused. Jess at least had a rough idea of where this was going. She was there for his conversation with Padwal.

"But," Kare prompted. Poe offered a faint smile.

"But we're pretty sure he sold us out to the First Order. Either that or this was a setup from the start."

It was hardly the first time, but then, the four of them knew him well enough to know that wasn't going to stop him. Kare looked excited. Jess, too, though he suspected for different reasons. Snap was likely to roll with it, which left only Iolo. Poe meet his steady gaze.

"I know what you're going to say."

"Do you? Will it make a difference?" Poe shook his head. "Then I won't say it. When do we leave?"

The swell of relief that accompanied Iolo's words was hard to contain. Poe let it spread into his cheeks, wide smile spreading across his face.

"While this is all very inspiring, can we maybe go back to the part with the plan? Because having a plan is usually a good idea," Snap interjected, earning the group's attention. Trust him to be the voice of reason. Poe offered a smug smile.

"Anyone feel like stealing another ship?"

For heads swivelled towards him, though Iolo and Kare merely rolled their eyes. Jess and Snap were staring at him like he'd grown gills.

"Trust me," Poe said, "it's not as hard as it sounds."

#

And okay, maybe it was as hard as it sounded, but as plans went Poe rather thought it was one of his better ones. But Iolo was right, they didn't need Padwal's ship. They needed his databank. More specifically, they needed his databank without the First Order knowing they had it. Time for plan B.

"Anything on the long range scanners?" Poe asked.

"Nothing yet," came the reply, Snap the only one with an open comlink. Poe had to trust that Iolo, Kare and Jess were in position. And that they hadn't jumped into the middle of a First Order fleet, but one problem at a time.

"You ready, Beebee-Ate?" he asked. BB-8 sent across confirmation. "Okay then, call up Padwal, and then start working on his firewall."

Padwal took his time answering, which didn't bode well for how this was going to go down. Still, Poe kept it light. The whole point was for Padwal, and by extension the First Order, to think Poe was here alone, with only a single x-wing for backup. Without missing a beat, Poe sent across his request for landing coordinates.

There was another lag, longer this time. It suggested the First Order didn't already have a ship lying in wait, but instead intended to send someone, which meant their plan might actually work and this wasn't just about the First Order not wanting the Resistance to get their hands on Finn's location.

For one brief, hysterical moment, Poe considered letting the First Order take him in. He pictured word of his capture spreading, Finn learning of it and coming for him, just like he had the first time, the two of them again stealing a TIE fighter to make their escape.

Because in addition to being stupid, he was also apparently suicidal. Poe grimaced, the words nearer the truth than he would have liked.

Something to consider another time, when he wasn't hanging in the cold expanse of open space, waiting on a set of coordinates and possibly the arrival of TIE fighters, maybe even a destroyer or two. He had half a breath to worry about the possibility, and then BB-8 whirled to life, a sharp trill confirmation they'd breached the first wall. A second chirp accompanied the arrival of Padwal's coordinates.

"I'm in," Poe said into the comlink.

On screen, filtered across the secure channel, data from the long range scanner appeared. A Maxima-A class heavy cruiser, likely with a complement of TIES. No destroyers, so that was something. More importantly, it was headed straight for their decoy.

"Good luck," Snap said, not exactly subtle, but Poe wasn't about to argue. At this point they were going to need all the luck they could manage.

Padwal was waiting for him again, nervous energy rolling off him in waves. He had his bottom lip caught between his teeth, the hem of his shirt twisted between his fingers. Poe didn't bother with the swagger, though he kept his hand away from his blaster, needing to keep up their ruse at least a little longer.

"Padwal, you got what I need?" he asked.

Padwal nodded, somewhat furiously, though he refused to meet Poe's eye. Poe doubted he'd even looked. More than likely he'd contacted the First Order seconds after Poe's departure.

There was a couple of ways this was going to go down, but they all started at the bridge. It was a secure location, away from Poe's x-wing, and the First Order would reason Poe would want to get a look at the intel he was buying. BB-8's scans indicated Padwal was the only life form on board, which meant the First Order expected Padwal to restrain their target, probably at about the same time a fleet of TIES popped out of subspace and took out Poe's escort.

It wasn't a bad plan, except for the part where Iolo, Kare and Jess were intercepting Padwal's subspace signal and redirecting it to a set of coordinates nowhere near Padwal's ship. The TIES would show up alright, just not where they were needed, and if Iolo and the others managed to take out a few before they got their bearings... Well, that was just an added bonus.

In the meantime, Poe just had to keep Padwal occupied long enough for BB-8 to breach his firewalls. After that the rest was easy. They'd still have to sort through Padwal's data, but all things considered it was a small price to pay.

"So, uh, you got the rest of my money?" Padwal asked when the reached the bridge. He stopped just outside the blast doors. 

He was chewing his bottom lip again, Poe not missing the way his right hand kept drifting to his hip, baggy shirt not quite loose enough to hide the outline of what Poe suspected was a taser. At least they wanted him alive. That was something.

"I got your money," Poe told him. He patted his pocket for emphasis, the move simultaneously bringing his hand closer to his blaster.

Padwal licked his lips. "It was... ugh, harder than I expected," he said. Poe quirked an eyebrow.

"You angling for more?"

Padwal laughed at that, a near hysterical thing. He was buying time, either waiting on the First Order's arrival or working himself up to it. Either way, Poe was done playing. He just hoped he'd given BB-8 enough time to get them in.

Still, he waited for the blast doors to open to pull his blaster, Padwal's nervousness slowing down his reaction time so that by the time he noticed Poe had him through the doors and onto the bridge, the taser on his hip lying useless on the floor.

"I would have paid more," Poe said, "except you haven't actually found anything, have you?"

There wasn't a lot of space to maneuver, so Poe shepherded him down the narrow corridor, to the terminal at the helm, where he thrust Padwal down into the pilot's chair. There was no fight left in him--if there was even any to begin with--but Poe still pulled out a set of binders and made a show of restraining him.

"So here's the question, did you even bother looking, or did you contact the First Order the second we left?"

Padwal was shaking his head, words spilling from his mouth too fast for Poe to follow. It grated on him, Poe half tempted to use his blaster without first setting it to stun. The thought ought to have terrified him--killing a man in the heat of battle was one thing, committing outright murder something else entirely. Still, six days. Six days he'd waited, and for what? For the First Order to transfer funds into Padwal's account? For the First Order to put together a regiment? Poe couldn't remember having ever been this angry.

"The caloric intake list, was it planted?" Poe asked, shoving his blaster under Padwal's chin. He tilted Padwal's head back, forcing him to make eye contact.

"I'm sorry, I had no choice," Padwal said, and then immediately started babbling again. Poe wasn't sure why he was surprised. The First Order ruled by intimidation, after all, and their sphere of influence was growing.

"I'm going to ask again. Was the caloric intake list planted?"

He needed to know, because there was no point stealing Padwal's data if it was, not if it would lead them on another wild bantha chase.

"No, I swear, I didn't even know I had it. Please, if you go now I'll tell them you never showed. I..."

Poe tuned him out, but he did draw back his blaster, Padwal's chin collapsing onto his chest. There was still hope then, Poe thought, dizzy with relief. He still had Padwal to deal with, and it was only a matter of time before the First Order found Padwal's ship, but for the first time in a long time a spark of hope burned in his chest.

"Piece of advice," Poe said when Padwal finally stopped talking. Padwal met his gaze, his expression stripped bare, but curious. "Find a new line of work."

He didn't give Padwal a chance to respond, Poe pointing his blaster at Padwal's chest, a single pulse of blue light striking him dead centre. Padwal's eyes widened briefly and then he collapsed, body slumping in his chair. Poe waited a breath and then checked his pulse. Still alive.

"Okay, Beebee-Ate, show me what you've got," he said, pushing Padwal aside to the reach the terminal. He fished a data cube from his pocket.

And this was it, the moment of truth. Connect the data cube to the terminal and it would immediately begin the download, Padwal, and the First Order, none the wiser. All Poe had to do was sit back and wait.

For a long, agonizing minute nothing happened, Poe convinced BB-8 had failed--they'd all failed. But then the cube whirred to life, the terminal coming alive, long strings of binary scrolling across the screen.

"Yes!" Poe shouted, though there was no one conscious to share his jubilation.

Zettabyte by zettabyte the cube copied Padwal's databank, a sprawling mess of data it would take the Resistance's techs weeks to decode. An eternity passed before the cube fell silent, the screen once again growing dark. Poe slipped the cube back into his pocket and then went to check on Padwal.

He was still alive, though Poe suspected he'd be out for a while. He retrieved his binders and then positioned Padwal so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit. Steps a little lighter, he returned to his x-wing.

Black One was right where he left her, Poe greeted by BB-8's high pitched whistle.

"You did it, buddy," he said, holding up the cube. BB-8 chirped the droid equivalent of congratulations. If Poe didn't know any better, he'd swear BB-8 was preening. Shaking his head, Poe started up the ladder.

He activated his comlink the second he reached the cockpit, Snap's signature appearing on the screen. He hated radio silence, the not knowing almost as bad as knowing and not being able to do a damned thing about it. Finding Snap still in position was a relief.

"Any word?" he asked, though he knew it unlikely, Iolo, Kare and Jess still out of range.

"Nothing bad," came Snap's reply, and then, "find what you were looking for?"

"Let's hope so," he said, powering up Black One's engines.

He found Snap coasting along the starboard side, the space around them empty, the horizon clear. A thousand ways this could have gone wrong, and yet it didn't, the universe aligning for once. If Poe didn't know any better, he'd swear it was the Force.

"Let's go get our crew," he said, punching in the coordinates for the rendezvous.

They jumped together, arriving to find Iolo, Jess and Kare hovering on the edge of a nebula cloud, its radiation disrupting the First Order's attempts to track them. Kare spotted him first, her bellowing whoop echoing over the comlink.

"I see you're all in one piece," he said. It was Kare who answered.

"You know," she said, "I wouldn't have signed up for this had I known we were going to spend the better part of an hour playing hide and go seek. Those idiots are still trying to trace our signal."

"Don't knock it, it worked, didn't it?"

"I don't know," Kare replied, "did it?"

 _I kriffing hope so_ , Poe thought.

"Couldn't have gone better," he said. "Now, come on, let's go home."

One by one they jumped, Poe taking one last lingering look out his cockpit window. _Hold on, Finn, I'm coming for you,_ , he thought, feeling then like he might just get to keep the promise.

 

~*~

_"You're sure," Leia said, her words carrying, displacing the silence of the room. Poe felt their weight settle against his chest._

_"We scoured the entire jungle. There was nothing."_

_She stood directly across from him, her hands braced against the command console, knuckles near white, and yet Poe couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. He felt too raw, everything on display. Instead he stared at the projection map, Aris' surface displayed in full terrain._

_"And the only ones not accounted for are Finn and Private Thulo," Leia continued._

_Ooron Thulo. Poe tried desperately to place the name. He made it a habit to learn the names of the people he served with, but try as he might he didn't recognize it. He nodded._

_"And we're sure it wasn't animals?" Admiral Ackbar asked. He stood to Leia's right. Poe shook his head._

_"They didn't touch the others, and we saw nothing larger than rodent class."_

_He didn't mention the bootprints, or the shuttle, or the blaster lying in the mud. It was all in his report, and besides, that wasn't what this was about. They had no telemetry on the shuttle, but with permission he could access Private Thulo's logs. The First Order had a reason to take Finn, but as far as the Resistance knew Private Thulo had done nothing to warrant the First Order's attention._

_"General," Poe pressed. He was fighting a tide of rising frustration. They were running out of time, Finn Force only knew where. "I'm just saying, what do we know about Private Thulo? It's worth looking..."_

_He didn't get any further, a jeer echoing from across the room. Those gathered around the table turned in unison, Poe surprised to recognize one of Leia's ground officers striding towards them. Cen Zapal was built like a tank, short crop of dark hair highlighting his pallor. He was, as far as Poe knew, well on his way to securing a command position._

_"Something you want to add, Lieutenant?" Poe asked._

_Lieutenant Zapal ignored Poe's question, turning instead to address General Organa._

_"I think it's safe to say we know everything we need to know about Private Thulo, including that that he was last seen with a known First Order stormtrooper," he said._

_Poe felt himself grow very, very cold._

_"I'm sorry," he said, clear warning in his tone. "I don't think I heard you." Cen glanced briefly in his direction._

_"I'm just saying," he said, turning back to General Organa. "It seems a little suspicious, don't you think? Our guys get jumped and at the same time the former stormtrooper disappears?"_

_It took considerable effort, but Poe managed to keep his features intentionally blank, his tone relatively even._

_"You need to leave the room, Lieutenant, and you need to leave it now."_

_Cen turned then to face him, ugly sneer tugging at his lip._

_"Please, everyone knows you were banging the guy. For all we know you're a First Order sympathizer. For all we know you helped coordinate the entire attack. Remind us again whose intel set us down on that rock?"_

_Poe recognized him now, one of the units who'd come off Aris in the shuttle, Finn and the others left behind._

_"I'm going to say this again, very slowly in case you missed it the first time. You need to leave this room, now."_

_Cen turned then, meeting Poe's gaze but refusing to move. Poe's vision went white with rage, every nerve in his body alight with the need to..._

_"Enough, both of you." Leia's voice cracked between them, the sound of her hand hitting the command table startlingly loud._

_"Lieutenant, you are dismissed. Poe, calm down. No one here believes Finn would betray us."_

_Poe deflated, but Cen made no move to leave. He glanced between them, open disgust playing over his features._

_"Are you both blind? We've likely had a First Order operative in our midst this entire time and..."_

_It was as far as he got before Poe was moving. Later he'd blame it on exhaustion, days of frantic worry culminating in the growing certainty Finn might very well be beyond his reach. Poe snapped. Inside a heartbeat he had Cen by the lapels, forcing him back until his back hit a console, the resulting collision as jarring as it was loud._

_"I believe you were dismissed," Poe spat._

_Lieutenant Zapal sputtered beneath him, his cheeks flushed with anger. Poe thought seriously about hitting him. Instead he relinquished his grip, stepping aside at the same time a set of hands settled on his shoulders._

_To his surprise it wasn't Leia, but Iolo. "Easy, Poe," he said, someone else slipping in to escort Lieutenant Zapal from the room. Poe ignored him and let Iolo lead him to the far corner, where Leia and Admiral Ackbar were waiting for him, Leia as sympathetic as Ackbar was unimpressed. Poe deflated._

_"I'm sorry," he said. "That was unprofessional of me."_

_Leia smiled. "Believe it or not, I understand."_

_Poe suspected she did. There wasn't a person on base who didn't know about her at times tumultuous relationship with Han Solo._

_"He's not a traitor, General. I can't it explain how I know that, but I do. He hated everything about the First Order. He still had nightmares about them coming back for him. I..."_

_"It's all right, Poe, we believe you," Iolo said. He still had a hand clasped on Poe's shoulder, a steady anchor against a growing swell of emotion._

_"Iolo's right," Leia said. "But it's not just that. I've seen his mind, and you're right. There's nothing but goodness in that man."_

_It was a relief to hear it, even if it wasn't a surprise. Poe nodded his thanks._

_"The question is," Leia continued, "why take Finn? Why take Private Thulo? For that matter, why kill the others?" She shook her head._

_"What do we know about Private Thulo?" Poe asked again. It was Admiral Ackbar who answered._

_"He showed up on board a freighter six months ago. There were twenty or thirty passengers total. We assessed their skills and dispersed them according to where they could best serve."_

_Poe turned his attention to Leia, watching as she processed the information._

_"I want those passengers interviewed, quietly. I also want everything we have on Ooron Thulo."_

_She glanced then to Poe, no longer Leia, but General Organa in all her imposing power. Poe came immediately to attention._

_"Bad enough we have a war to contend with, now we have to worry about First Order operatives? Let's see if we can flush one out. They may be able to tell you where to find Finn."_

_He meant to argue, to tell her it wasn't enough, that they needed to find Finn now, but before he got the chance her expression changed, hard lines growing soft. She wrapped a hand around his arm._

_"I promise you we are going to do everything in our power to find him. I won't leave him in their hands. But I need you to trust me on this one. Let us look into Thulo while you look for operatives. And Poe." She paused then, offering a faint squeeze. "I won't stop you if you want to pursue your own leads, just let me know if you're thinking of doing anything particularly stupid."_

_He smiled at that--couldn't help it; she already knew him so well._

_"I trust you," he said. All his instincts were still telling him to get into his x-wing, hunt down every First Order ship he could find until he found the one Finn was on, but Leia was right. They weren't going to find Finn that way. If he wanted Finn home, they were going to have to play this by the books, and that meant a systematic investigation. He hated it, but he'd do it. Finn deserved nothing less._


	6. Chapter 6

XIV.

This was what he knew:

The Penalizer was a resurgent-class star destroyer. It housed 8,102 officers and 19,236 stormtroopers, with an additional 6,145 enlisted crew comprised of pilots, mechanics, medical staff and technicians. It held a complement of 1,600 TIE fighters along with 100 AALs. Its hull was equipped with over 1,500 turbolasers and ion cannons. There were 7 tractor beam projectors.

FN-2187 did not know how to pilot a ship.

He also knew he was being watched, more so than the others, which meant that any deviant behaviour would result in immediate reconditioning. He knew they'd reconditioned him in the past. He suspected more than once. He didn't know why. What he did know was that there were oblong shaped holes in his memories, memories FN-2187 was desperate to retrieve.

He also knew how reconditioning worked. Remove the abhorrent behaviour and the memories associated with it and you created a blank slate, giving a trooper a second chance, forgiveness for their failings.

Or so the First Order would have them believe. FN-2187 was no longer certain.

Because those missing memories didn't feel like forgiveness. They felt like gaping holes, FN-2187 aware of their absence in the same way he might miss a phantom limb. Worse still, he didn't know how much of his life was missing. How many memories had they taken? Could he even trust the ones they'd left behind?

More importantly, how was he going to get away?

Because that decision was made, those few brief terrifying moments in the ammunitions storeroom enough to convince him of that, but short of stealing a TIE fighter, which he couldn't fly, FN-2187 was limited for options.

What he needed was a pilot.

The thought triggered something. Not an actual memory, more the sensation of remembering, FN-2187's body tensing, his breath catching in his throat. He stood outside a set of doors, FN-3610 positioned across the hall. They were already several hours into sentry detail. Guarding a communications relay hardly required the both of them, but leaving his post would almost certainly attract attention, something FN-2187 didn't want, so he forced himself to take deep, steadying breaths until the urge to run subsided.

Why a pilot, he wondered. What specifically was it about a pilot that triggered the response?

He could no longer remember what had sent him scrambling into the ammunitions storeroom, though he remembered the resulting panic and confusion with startling clarity. He felt some of that now, the more he strained for an answer the closer he came to tipping over the edge. Remaining outwardly unmoved took considerable will power.

He knew, in passing, a handful of the TIE pilots, FN-2187 stationed more than once on the flight deck. He liked watching them, the screaming of their engines sending chills down his spine. He pictured himself approaching one, dark helmets hiding the scrutiny of their gaze. They would report him immediately, if they didn't drag him kicking and screaming to Phasma on their own. Perhaps during the next off world mission, whenever that was, he could slip away from his unit, hide under the cover of darkness until the First Order was gone, FN-2187 left behind. It would have to be somewhere he could find a ship. FN-2187 could barter passage with... He had nothing to offer, not even a name. Neither option was going to work. What he needed was willing pilot already on board.

Unbidden, this morning's simulation appeared before him, FN-2187 caught in the crossfire of an open battlefield while above dozens of Resistance x-wings fell to a squadron of TIE fighters. FN-2187 shook the thought aside, born, he suspected, from sheer desperation.

He turned his attention instead to the corridor outside the communications command relay. It remained empty, polished floors reflecting the glare of too white light. Both contributed to his sense of isolation. Across from him, FN-3610 remained an armour-clad statue, while down the corridor, at the next junction, FN-3099 and FN-4003 were rooted in their spots. There had to be something here, something he was overlooking, an answer seemingly at his fingertips. Maybe if he understood...

Nightmares, Ten had said. They'd reconditioned him for nightmares, but FN-2187 didn't remember his dreams. What he needed was access to his personnel files, an understanding of what he'd done; of why thoughts of finding a pilot elicited such an overwhelming response. But access to personnel files was restricted, well above FN-2187's clearance level. The most he could do was access training materials, requisition blasters, open comlinks, and send relay signals...

FN-2187's breath caught. 

He'd gotten better at stamping down the impulse to affirm his loyalty to the First Order, FN-2187 doing so now. He knew part of his conditioning was designed to automate the response, obedience programmed practically from birth. But contemplating leaving the First Order was one thing. This... This was something else entirely. Tendrils of fear tightened in his throat.

An answer, it seemed, was in reach.

He had access to the communications relay. Not unrestricted, but he could work around that. If he had something to offer the Resistance, something worthwhile, then maybe....

Before the thought could form his vision grew spotty, his heart beating furiously in his chest. Sweat immediately beaded against his forehead, the air inside his helmet growing sticky and damp. _Not now_ , he told himself, knowing this was the First Order. The sickness grew. It settled in the pit of his stomach, bile rising up the back of his throat.

 _Deep breaths_ , he told himself, half terrified he would forget. The terror remained.

But so did the thought, FN-2187 slowly letting it take shape. He'd need a way into one of the communications relays unobserved. He'd need coordinates for contacting the Resistance. He'd need a plan for getting off the ship, or getting someone from the Resistance onto the ship. Mostly, though, he needed something to trade.

The idea bordered on ludicrous, but it wasn't impossible. It was also the only plan he had, so until something better came along, it would have to suffice.

He braced himself then for inevitable panic, but it didn't come, a strange calm washing over him instead, the pieces starting to fit into place. He'd only ever heard rumours, stories whispered in the barracks at night, but if he didn't know any better he'd swear it was the Force, faint lines of connection now charting his course. FN-2187 had no idea where they'd lead, but at this point anywhere was better than here.

 

//

 _Pack your things_ , Dr. Kalonia had told him, Finn both elated and terrified at the prospect of leaving the medbay. He was sick of lying around, entirely dependent on med-droids, his every waking hour monitored and recorded. He knew this wasn't the First Order--it was far too cluttered for one thing--but he'd lived his entire life up until this point under constant scrutiny and Finn was wary of the attention.

It was, however, all that he knew, Finn not entirely sure where he fit in after this. General Organa had offered him a place inside the Resistance, if he wanted it, or a shuttle, to wherever he wanted to go, whenever he wanted to go. _We owe you our eternal gratitude, Finn_ , she'd told him. He hadn't yet given her an answer, but he was beginning to think he wanted to stay.

Finn's _things_ consisted of a set of clothing--soft browns and tans, the fabric worn smooth by their previous owner, Finn utterly perplexed by their comfort--and Poe's jacket, newly mended, a jagged line of fabric staples holding its torn edges together.

Poe had offered to find him a new one. Finn had refused.

He also had a set of crutches, steril white made from the same material as his stormtrooper armour. He'd rather have not needed them, but it was either the crutches or the chair and Kala would kick his ass if she found out he'd chosen the chair. Besides, he was getting better--could almost walk across the room unaided now--the crutches temporary, an annoyance he could bear if it meant getting back on his feet.

He expected Poe to come and fetch him, not because he needed the help, but because Poe escorted him everywhere these days, his presence a constant Finn both appreciated and enjoyed. To his surprise, it was Leia who appeared at the door, Finn struggling to come to attention.

"We've had this conversation, Finn. There's no need. At ease."

She was teasing him, he knew--could tell by the fond exasperation reflected in her gaze--but old habits died hard, so Finn adopted a rest position, feet spread apart, hands collapsed behind his back. Leia rolled her eyes.

"Fine, it's not my spine," she said.

She came fully into the room then, stride purposefully as she came to stand before him. She was nearly half Phasma's size, and yet she commanded the same attention, her presence filling the room. Finn let his shoulders droop a little, the closest he could offer her in terms of relaxation. A wide smile spread over her features.

"Much better."

She glanced then to the end of the bed, where Finn's jacket was folded, his crutches propped against the frame.

"We'll definitely get you more stuff, but for now, do you feel up to walking?"

He did, though the process was slow going with the crutches. Still, he took the request as a challenge, Finn nodding and then reaching for his jacket. Leia waited patiently for him to gather his things, the crutches no longer a novelty, but awkward all the same. He slid the cuffs up onto his forearms, hands braced against the bars, seamless plastic moulded to evenly distribute his weight.

"Lead the way," he told her.

She led them from the room at a normal pace, neither ambling nor rushed, trusting Finn to keep up. It sparked that same unfamiliar warmth in his chest, the one Finn was starting to realize was gratitude. He found a rhythm at her side, a little winded, but feeling stronger than he had in a long time.

Her path took them past the hangar bay, its wide doors open to torrential rain. No wind yet, the overhead lights steady and bright. Finn searched briefly for Poe, but aside from a handful of technicians, the hangar bay was deserted.

"Have you made a decision," she asked when they reached the other side, coming back into the main junction. It still resembled a junkyard, but at least this time Finn could navigate it, his crutches, if not graceful at least maneuverable.

"Actually," he said. "If the offer still stands, I'd like to stay."

She met the declaration with equanimity, as though she'd expected the response all along. But then, she was supposedly Force sensitive, so it was entirely possible she'd already read his mind; knew his intentions.

Unbidden, he thought of Poe, Finn stamping down the accompanying flutter before it had a chance to surface.

"We would love to have you," Leia was saying. They'd left the main corridor and were headed towards the sleeping quarters. Finn half suspected she'd already requisitioned him a room.

"Have you given any consideration to what you'd like to do?" She stopped then, pivoting so that she faced him, open curiosity and something Finn thought might be hope playing across her features. "If it were me, I'd put you in Intelligence. I think you have the makings of a fine officer. However the choice is yours and whatever you decide we'll do our best to make it happen."

She smiled then, but it wasn't like any smile he'd ever seen. This wasn't Rey, soft eyes overflowing with hope and affection, and it wasn't Poe, warm and secretive like no one had ever smiled at him before. He had no frame of reference for this, but if he had to guess he'd label it maternal, Leia's eyes reflecting the same fondness he saw in Kala's whenever one of her children appeared. Finn swallowed, temporarily overwhelmed.

"If it's okay, I think I'd like to work in infantry. I'm good with a blaster and I was mostly trained for ground combat, so that's probably where I'd be the most help."

He'd never had to consider what he wanted to do before. The First Order made that decision for him, but for all of that Finn was most comfortable on the ground, blaster in his hand.

"Of course," Leia said. "As soon as you get medical clearance I'll make arrangements. Until then, I hope I can get you to sit in on some of our debriefings. Your insights into the First Order would be of tremendous use to us."

"I'd be happy to," Finn said. After everything the Resistance had done for him, it was the least he could do.

Her smile widening, Leia reached between them then, her fingers brushing against his elbow. The touch was feather light, a fleeting connection meant, Finn thought, to extend her gratitude. Heat prickled at his cheeks.

"Welcome to the Resistance, Finn," she said.

He wasn't used to this either, stormtroopers not shown gratitude. As extensions of the First Order, they were given orders and expected to obey. Certainly Phasma had never looked at him with such open appreciation, the reflective slits of her eye lenses devoid of any and all emotion. Finn struggled to put all of that into words.

In the end, he didn't have to, Leia sensing his discomfort. She withdrew her hand and started them back down the hall, Finn fumbling briefly with his crutches before catching up; keeping pace at her side.

"We had a few empty bunks available," she told him. She didn't mention the Resistance's losses during the attack on Starkiller, but it hung between them all the same. "But I thought you'd be more comfortable sharing."

She paused again, this time stopping outside a set of doors, Finn glancing briefly to name etched above the keypad, _Poe Dameron_ stenciled in bold Aurebesh.

"There's also a single down the hall. Your choice." 

His heart, already racing at the prospect of sharing Poe's quarters, sank inexplicably. He glanced from the door to Leia, and then back to the door.

"Does Poe..."

"It was his idea, actually," Leia said, Finn needing a minute to process that.

The thought of Poe wanting him around was overwhelming. He already claimed so much of Poe's time, and Finn didn't want to intrude. He worried Poe felt obligated, Poe unabashed in his gratitude, Finn having lost count of the number of times Poe had thanked Finn for saving his life. _You saved me_ , Finn wanted to tell him, though he doubted Poe would agree.

"I'd rather not be alone," Finn decided, remembering then the endless weeks spent trapped in the medbay with only the med-droids for company.

"Good choice," Leia told him. "I wouldn't have wanted to deal with Poe if you'd chosen a room on your own."

She laughed then, Finn strangely warmed by the sound. She gestured to the door, Finn realizing then that she meant for him to knock. He had no idea why he found himself suddenly so nervous.

But Poe was only Poe and apparently he wanted Finn around, so Finn raised his hand and knocked.

Poe answered almost immediately, as though he'd been standing there the entire time, waiting on their arrival. Finn shook his head, vanity not usually one of his failings. Why he'd thought Poe might be waiting for him...

"Took you long enough," Poe said, stepping aside.

He gestured them both into the room, but Leia shook her head. She reached out, fingers curling around the inside of Finn's elbow, just above his forearm brace.

"I'll see you at 0900 tomorrow," she said, and then she was leaving, Finn left standing awkwardly in the hall.

"So, date with the General, huh?"

"It's not... She wants to start debriefings." Heat stained Finn's cheeks. For as much as he liked Poe's company, there were times Finn swore Poe flustered him intentionally.

Still standing inside the doorframe, Poe raised an eyebrow. Finn shook his head.

"You going to let me in?" he asked, gesturing with one of his crutches.

Poe's smile widened. He gave a brief incline of his head and then stepped aside. Finn brushed past him, and got his first real look at the place.

It was smaller than he'd expected, though only because the medbay was so much larger. He passed through the small foyer and came into the room proper, where a low settee was pushed against the far wall, a squat round table sitting before it, its surface littered in schematics. There was a desk across from it, this too covered in odd bits of detritus. BB-8's charging unit was plugged in beside it, BB-8 strangely absent. Against the back wall, twin beds were set across from each other, several feet of empty space between them. There was only one nightstand, this immaculately clean. A single holo-emitter marred its surface. Finally, behind them was the door they'd come through, and another that led, presumably, into a private fresher. A footlocker stood on either side of the fresher doors. One of the lockers was open, Poe's orange flightsuit stuffed inside.

"This is..." Finn said, at a loss for words.

"It's a bit messy. I was cleaning, but..."

"No, I mean, it's too much. Are you sure I'm not intruding?"

Poe laughed at that, even as he shook his head. He crossed to where Finn was standing, dazed and awestruck in the centre of the room, and set a hand on his shoulder.

"Couple months from now, once we get recruitment numbers up, we'll all be sharing. At least this way I get to pick my roommate. Plus, the singles don't have private freshers."

He waggled his eyebrows at that, the sight so comical Finn couldn't help but laugh. Without really meaning to, he found himself leaning into the hand on his shoulder, Poe squeezing as he spoke, all of Finn's tension vanishing beneath his touch.

This was also new, stormtroopers not allowed the luxury of touch. Oh, there was the occasional clap on the back, or an offered hand in the middle of a simulation--though he'd always gotten in trouble for those--but nothing as casual and commonplace as they were here. Finn had lost count of the number of times Poe had touched him.

"Hey," Poe said, standing before him now, his hand still resting on Finn's shoulder. Finn blinked, bringing his features into focus. "You don't have to stay here if you don't want, Finn, you don't..."

Finn shook his head. "That's not..." he said, not entirely sure how to proceed.

"Whatever it is..." Poe offered. He removed his hand slowly, Finn immediately missing his warmth.

"It's just a bit hard to take in," he admitted, all of this--his flight from the First Order, meeting Poe, meeting Rey, fighting Kylo Ren, joining the Resistance... It all happened so fast, Finn left feeling like he was floating in open space, untethered, caught between finding an orbit and drifting into open space. Frankly, it was terrifying.

"Give it time," Poe told him, his expression growing contemplative then, constructed indifference taking the place of his usual warmth. Finn frowned.

"I bet you miss Rey, too, right?" Poe said, all of the warmth gone from his voice. Finn's frown deepened.

"Well, yeah, but..." Finn said, still not sure how they'd gotten on to the topic of Rey. Poe, his features now carefully blank, offered no insight.

"There's a set schedule for when they can comm us, something to do with the way the planets align in their system." Poe chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair. "Leia explained it to me once, but I wasn't really paying attention. The signal gets bounced around a lot, anyway, so there's only certain windows they can contact us without the First Order overhearing.

"My point is," Poe continued, Finn rather hoping he had one, this conversation fast becoming one of the most confusing of his life. "If you want, I can ask Leia if she can arrange some face time."

That, at least, Finn understood, Finn straightening a little, some of his earlier tension draining.

"Yeah?"

Poe didn't exactly flinch, but it was near enough that Finn wondered if he'd said something wrong. But then Poe was smiling again, open and warm like he smiled all the time, Finn's stomach fluttering at the sight.

"Yeah, of course," he said. "You're the hero of the Resistance, Finn. You can have anything you want."

Finn laughed at that, the idea of him being a hero utterly ridiculous. He wasn't a hero. He was just an ordinary guy who wasn't about to leave his friends in the hands of the First Order.

But he knew Poe didn't believe that, so he kept his mouth shut, Finn not about to argue when Poe was looking at him like he was something more than just a ex-stormtrooper. 

"Yeah, I'd like to talk to Rey, and I'd like to stay here with you, if that's okay."

He knew immediately it was the right thing to say, Poe's features lighting up.

"In that case," Poe said, gesturing around the room. "Welcome home."

 

XV.

Captain Phasma stood before General Hux, the line of her spine perpendicular with the floor. He hadn't checked, but Ren suspected her armour was polished finer than any mirror. She was a picture of efficient obedience, everything Hux admired; everything currently wrong with the First Order. Why Snoke allowed either to live was beyond him.

Still, he supposed they served their purpose, Ren not particularly interested in amassing armies or claiming new territory. Feeble pursuits. Insignificant against the overwhelming power of the dark side.

"Your report, Captain," Hux was saying, an ineffective display of leadership.

"Sir," Captain Phasma said, utterly blank. Ren imagined her mind filled only with protocol and standards, nothing at all of use to a Knight of Ren.

"FN-2187," she began, and of course this was about _him_. Hidden behind his mask, Ren grit his teeth. None of this was going according to plan.

"His reconditioning appears to have been successful. There have been no further offenses. I am pleased to report he is a model stormtrooper."

Ren watched Hux's chest swell with pride, an ugly sneer twisting his lips. He'd gloat about this, Ren though, and Ren would be careful not to remind him that he'd wanted FN-2187 sent out the airlock.

They were both fools.

Oh, he had no doubt FN-2187 was a model stormtrooper, for the time being, but he knew their methods, reconditioning a useful tool when used against a weak mind. Against the power of the Force it was infinitesimal. Everything they'd stripped from him was still there, somewhere. It was only a matter of time before it surfaced.

Snoke wanted the traitor to come to them on his own, but Ren knew that was a risk they couldn't afford. The Force still sheltered his memories, for the moment his mind a blank slate. If Ren could get to him in time he could unmake those memories, unravel them long before they returned. In the right hands, FN-2187 was a lump of clay, someone they could mold into a valuable ally against the Jedi.

Hux and Phasma underestimated FN-2187, but Snoke underestimated the lure of the darkside. That left only him, Kylo Ren smiling into his mask as he strode from the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting chapters 7 & 8 simultaneously as they compliment one another.

XVI.

"Thought I might find you here."

He'd heard her coming long before she reached him, Kare's boots ringing against the ferrocrete floors. Sound had a tendency to carry inside the hangar after hours, the rest of the base having enough sense for sleep.

Any other day Poe might have offered a witty retort. Any other day Kare might have responded in kind. Today Poe barely acknowledged her, his gaze locked on his knees. They were drawn to his chest, his back pressed against one of Black One's landing struts. A half empty glass of Corellian whiskey sat by his foot.

Kare squatted beside him, kitty-corner on the landing strut so that they could both lean against it, their shoulders brushing. She tapped a finger against his abandoned glass.

"You sure this is a good idea?" she asked.

"No, it's a terrible idea, that's why it's sitting there," he told her, neglecting to mention it was his third.

"In that case..."

She helped herself to what was left of it, knocking it back in a single shot. Any other day, he might have laughed. Today he just wanted to be left alone.

"I'm fine, Kare. You should go to bed."

He didn't have the energy for this. Everything ached, their triumph at Padwal's now an endless waiting game, the Resistance's best techs pitted against Padwal's encryptions, Poe the damned pawn in the middle.

"Funny," Kare said. "I was about to tell you the same thing."

He braced himself for a lecture, but it didn't come. Instead Kare shifted, her shoulder pressing a little more firmly into his. He knew was she was doing--or rather what she was trying to do--and he appreciated it, he did, but he was too tired--and much too drunk--to have the kind of conversation she was looking for.

"Is this where I open up and tell you how much I miss him?" he still asked, because, damn her, Kare's tactics always seemed to work.

"I guess you could, but you kind of just did, so..."

She punctuated the point by setting Poe's glass back on the ground.

 _Hell with it_ , Poe thought, because of course it was going to play out this way, Poe nothing if not an entirely unguarded, pathetic drunk.

"You wanna hear something funny?" he asked, long past the point of guarding his tongue.

"Let me guess, you never got the chance to kiss him."

"Cute," Poe said, scowling at the empty glass between them. His head was beginning to hurt, his body numb from too long sitting on the ferrocrete. He let his head tip back against the strut, his hands clasping over his knees.

"He used to wake up screaming in the middle of the night, terrified the First Order had come back for him. I mean, me, I worry about crashing my ship or losing a pilot, but Finn? His biggest fear was them making him a stormtrooper again."

He paused then, already feeling like he'd shared too much, none of this his to share in the first place. Try telling that to his tongue.

"I don't even think it was the First Order he was afraid of. He was just afraid they'd make him hurt people, and he didn't want to hurt people. I..."

"It wasn't your fault," Kare interrupted.

Poe shook his head. Nausea was creeping in now, curling its way up his esophagus. He drew a shaky breath.

"You think I don't know that?" He didn't want to have this conversation again, first Jessika and now Kare. If he didn't know any better he'd swear they were doing this intentionally, trading off crises, _keep Poe Dameron functioning_ the mission of the day.

"I know it wasn't my fault, but they didn't just take him. They gave him back his old number. Do you get that? He's a kriffing number."

He thought back to the day they met, Finn radiating so much raw, visceral energy. It was hard not to get caught up in it, everything about him vibrant and beautiful. If it wasn't love at first sight it was the next best thing. And then he'd given a kriffing number instead of a name and...

"He deserves a name," Poe said, practically a whisper.

He let his head fall forward then, forehead coming to rest against his knees. Corellian whiskey was never a good drunk. It left him maudlin and morose, sinking ever deeper into self pity and despair. Next he'd be thinking about Muran or his mother or his damned failure to find Leia's operative. Poe shook his head.

"You know," Kare said, "it might not be him. They might just... I don't know, recycle their numbers."

Poe's stomach lurched. She was trying to be helpful, he knew that, it was just...

"Then where the hell is he? Because we can't find him anywhere, so if FN-2187 isn't him then chances are Finn's dead and all of this has been for nothing."

He didn't believe that--refused to believe it--the idea of Finn gone not something Poe was prepared to process. He'd rather spend the rest of his life chasing dead ends than admit the possibility. No, Finn was alive. He could feel it. He wasn't sure how, but he knew it was true.

"It's him. I know it's him."

Kare didn't answer right away. He felt rather than saw her move, the pressure against his shoulder disappearing. He glanced up to find her standing before him, Poe forced to crane his neck just to meet her gaze. She extended a hand.

"Then we're just going to have to go take him back, aren't we?"

He wanted to believe her. He wanted so bad to believe that this was it, that this time they'd find him, that Leia's techs would come back with a location and Poe would get into his x-wing and... Okay, there were logistics to work out, but none of that mattered, Poe confident they'd figure it out if only they had somewhere to start.

Kare was still standing above him, her hand hanging between them and who was he kidding? He'd never give up hoping, not when there was still a chance. He'd lost too many loved ones to give up on Finn. Letting his resolve harden, Poe reached up to take Kare's offered hand.

~*~

_Twenty-eight._

_There were twenty-eight passengers aboard the Elysium, including Ooron Thulo. Poe immediately discounted seven of them, all under the age of ten. The rest were families, desperate people seeking safe haven after the destruction of the Hosnian system. The ship had reached D'Qar completely by accident. Poe imagined there were still dozens out there, floating aimlessly in space, with nowhere to go and no one to help._

_Twenty-one possibilities. The task seemed insurmountable. It was also distracting. Poe didn't want to hunt down First Order operatives. He wanted to climb into his x-wing, hunt down the First Order, find Finn and bring him home._

_"I distinctly remember Leia telling you to leave Thulo to her," Iolo said, though he didn't budge from Poe's side._

_"She also charged me with finding operatives, and it's entirely possible Thulo has incriminating evidence in his possession, so..."_

_He gestured to the door, where BB-8 working on overriding the lock. Iolo shook his head._

_"You also realize they've already searched his quarters. If he was in possession of incriminating evidence they'd have found it already."_

_"Maybe," Poe said, though he wasn't convinced. Either way, he needed to see. If Thulo did hand Finn to the First Order, Poe needed to know him. After all, he fully intended to kill the man._

_"You also realize this is still a theory. It's entirely possible Thulo was also taken by the First Order."_

_Poe considered the possibility, and found it wanting. Why kill the others and take only two? Finn he could understand, but Thulo? This wasn't a fly-by-night operation. It took planning. Meticulous planning. Months of prep work. An unreasonable thing to do for a defected stormtrooper, but an utterly preposterous thing to do for a low ranking Resistance soldier._

_But there was no point countering Iolo's argument. Even without glancing over Poe knew he didn't believe it. Besides, they'd find out soon enough, BB-8 letting out a series of high-pitched chirps, the door to Thulo's quarters sliding open. Poe shot Iolo a look, and then stepped inside._

_Spartan didn't begin to cover it. Poe glanced around the room, finding only the bare necessities. There was a bunk against the far wall, empty nightstand beside it. On his left was a desk, and on his right a foot locker, open and empty. Aside from a single pillow and blanket, there was nothing to indicate anyone had ever lived here._

_"You think Leia's already had it cleared out, or did this guy actually live like this?" Poe asked. He crossed first to the desk, opening drawer after drawer and finding nothing inside. Next he checked the nightstand, but it too was empty. For good measure, he checked under the mattress. Nothing. Even the foot locker was cleared, not a single set of clothes left behind._

_Poe returned to the centre of the room and let Iolo do a slow circuit, Poe trusting Iolo's eyes to catch the things he'd missed. After a minute, Iolo shook his head._

_"They didn't take much."_

_Poe let that sink in. It was, he supposed, entirely possible Thulo had come off the Elysium with only the clothes on his back--hell, it wasn't like Finn's side of their room was much different--but something still wasn't sitting right. Why plant someone inside the Resistance? Was it just to get to Finn, or was there something bigger at play?_

_"Guess you were right," Poe said. He was loath to admit it, but there no sense clinging to disproved theories._

_"I often am, but I'm afraid you'll need to clarify on which point," came an answer, just not Iolo's._

_Poe and Iolo spun in unison, caught red-handed. From her place by the door, Leia shook her head._

_"Had a feeling I'd find you here."_

_"Guilty as charged," Poe said. "Though I'm not technically breaking orders." He was reaching. He knew it and she knew it, but Poe still shot her his best smile, the one he reserved for getting out of tight places. Leia rolled her eyes._

_"Come on," she said, gesturing them both out of the room. "There's something you need to see."_

_She didn't wait for their response, already out the door. Poe exchanged a brief glance with Iolo, his smile vanishing. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. They caught up to Leia at the next junction._

_He expected her to lead them to the command centre, but instead she took them through the hangar and out onto the flight deck, to where a line of supply transports and freighters sat docked in a line, away from the x-wings and military ships._

_Poe spotted the Elysium almost immediately. A great, hulking thing, it occupied two docks, easily four times as long as it was wide. It dwarfed every other ship on the ground. Leia lead them around to its bow, where the front access hatch was open, its ramp lowered. They made their way inside._

_A couple of Leia's techs occupied the bridge, but they scattered with a wave of her hand, only one remaining. She stood at the communications relay, Poe surprised by the sophistication of the Elysium's systems. For a freighter, she was outfitted with systems Poe hadn't seen since he'd flown for the New Republic._

_"Private Sode, can you please show Commander Dameron what you've found."_

_Leia stood aside then, allowing Poe access to the relay. Private Sode immediately pulled up the system's logs, faint blue text appearing onscreen._

_"The Elysium didn't find us by accident," she said. "They were sent coordinates."_

_It took Poe half a second to process that, his brain refusing to acknowledge the connection. The Elysium showed up in D'Qar several weeks after the destruction of the Hosnian system, a random jump it appeared, just a single freighter fleeing to the furthest reaches of the galaxy. That was months ago, almost a full Galactic Standard year and coincidentally around the time Finn woke up from his coma. It was with them when they fled D'Qar; with them as they set up a new base on Secor II. All that time. Poe turned to catch Leia's eye._

_"Do we knew who sent the coordinates?" he asked, dreading the alternative. Leia shook her head._

_"We know the signal originated on D'Qar, but aside from that..."_

_He knew immediately how this would look. A signal sent out from D'Qar shortly after Finn woke. He could almost picture Cen Zapal's condescending sneer._

_"You know this wasn't him," Poe said, feeling then the need to reaffirm the point. Before answering, Leia nodded the technician from the room. She took Poe's arm._

_"I know that, and you know that, but we also know how this is going to look, so until we have something solid that proves otherwise, this information doesn't leave this ship."_

_"And your technicians?" Poe asked, hating the idea of a traitor amongst them: hating the idea of the base thinking it was Finn._

_"They've already been given the subtle suggestion to ignore everything they've learned," she said, Poe reminded again of who and what she was. Thank the stars she was on their side._

_"You know, you really would have made a good Jedi," he told her, earning another of her eyerolls._

_"I think I have my hands full leading a rebellion."_

_She started them off the ship then, Poe and Iolo following behind. Where General Organa led they followed, gladly and willingly, in this as in everything. Outside, Private Sode stood at the bottom of the ramp, apparently waiting further instructions. Leia drew her aside._

_"Wipe the drive," she said, the weight of her words striking Poe with the full force of their gravity. Something ugly coiled in the pit of his stomach._

_Things were supposed to be simple here, the Resistance above the petty politics of the New Republic. Poe was beginning to realize that wasn't true. They were walking a fine line, the fate of not just Finn hanging in the balance. As much as he hated to admit it, as much as he hated having his attention distracted, he was beginning to understand this was bigger than one man. I'm sorry, Finn, he thought, understanding now what rescuing Finn might mean. It didn't change anything, he still intended to bring Finn home, but he knew now Finn's capture wasn't retaliation. It was a strategic decision, the opening move in an impending battle, one Poe wasn't entirely certain they could win._

 

XVII.

Their fear did not go unnoticed. It rippled through them, growing and swelling as one by one they became aware of their audience. Kylo Ren drank deep from its well, letting it fuel the raw power of the dark side. Hidden behind his mask, he permitted himself a small smile.

He could feel the weight of Phasma's gaze, hard and furious behind her mask. Ren ignored it. She wasn't his concern, at least, not now. They would have time enough later for what needed doing. For now he was content to watch from his place on the observation deck, several of Phasma's units frozen in the act of circling each other on the training room floor. His gaze drew immediately to FN-2187.

How no one else saw it was beyond comprehension. The traitor radiated power. He'd seen the same in the girl, though hers was chaotic, untrained and undisciplined, a wild surging that would have no doubt one day consumed her had she not found her way to Skywalker. FN-2187 was different. He held the Force close, cloaked around him, his power contained, subconsciously controlled. The day he understood his power would be the day of their undoing. Already he was strong enough to challenge Snoke, Ren not entirely sure who would win. All the more reason to interfere. Allowing FN-2187 the choice was a path they couldn't risk.

He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. All that time, FN-2187 within his grasp, and he'd missed it. It was not a mistake he intended to make twice.

FN-2187 was staring up at him now, his fear as palpable as the others. Ren allowed his gaze to linger, delighting in the trembling of FN-2187's hand.

"Continue," he barked at the group's hesitation. Phasma came to stand at his right elbow. She bristled with anger, but was both unwilling and unable to countermand his order.

"Go on," she told them.

Their circling began anew, FN-2187 now part of the fray. He held a shield in one hand and a Z6 baton in the other. One of the QD's stepped forward similarly equipped. Their fight was short lived.

It wasn't distraction. FN-2187 held his own, his focus entirely on the match, but whereas QD-3189 had no compunctions against striking her opponent, FN-2187 focused solely on defense. Ren lost count of his missed opportunities. All their reconditioning and they still hadn't broken him of his weakness. He would draw no power from hatred. Nothing from aggression or anger. That left only fear, something FN-2187 had in abundance.

It would suffice.

He watched until QD-3189 knocked FN-2187 to the ground, Phasma calling an end to the match. FN-2187's gaze flew immediately to the observation deck, though he hoisted himself up, clearing the training field with the same efficiency Ren had come to expect from Phasma's troopers.

"FN-2187," Phasma said, her voice echoing across the room. FN-2187's gaze flew from Ren to Phasma, his spine snapping straight. His armour bore the scorch marks of QD-3189's baton. Shallow breathing suggested she'd gifted him a wound.

Ren set a hand on Phasma's arm.

Her shock was apparent. Ren couldn't remember having ever touched her. Whatever else Phasma intended to say was lost, her gaze now locked on the single point of contact between them. Below, her troopers were once again frozen in indecision.

"I believe that will be all for the day," Ren said, dismissing them. He turned to meet Phasma's gaze, her entire being trembling with indignation.

"A word, Captain."

He relinquished his grip and started for the control room, trusting Phasma to follow. It was a small space, smaller certainly than the observation deck, but also secure and private, both of which were essential to his plans. Phasma entered on his heel, the door sliding shut behind her.

"Sir, what is the meaning of this?" she asked, forgetting her place. Ren removed his helmet before answering.

It startled her into acquiescence, none save Snoke and Hux having seen him without his mask. Her gaze, he thought, lingered on his scar, a parting gift from the scavenger, and one he meant to return in kind.

"I thought it time we clarified some things," he said. He set his mask on the command console. "I also thought I would extend to you a trust. Would you permit me the same?"

He watched her process the request, as suspicious as she was appalled by his lack of decorum. Her helmet was a symbol and symbols were powerful things. Strip it away and what was left?

"Don't make me order you," he said.

She drew herself then to her full height, which was considerable, and reached for her helmet. Ren watched with detached impatience, though if asked he would admit he was curious to know her features. She did not disappoint.

"Ah, there, that's better," he said. "You know why I'm here."

He watched her fight the initial impulse to lie, her mouth pressing into a thin line, creases appearing at the corners of her eyes. Outside of uniform he might have labelled her attractive, though he doubted she would appreciate the observation. Ren held her gaze with firm expectation.

"FN-2187," she eventually said.

Ren took a step towards her, drawing then on her troopers' earlier fear. It surged inside him, fueling the dark side of the Force, Ren letting tendrils of it seep into her mind.

"Tomorrow, at 0800, you will have him sent to me on the combat deck. This will not make it into General Hux's report," he suggested.

Her mind was stronger than most, but in the end she knew nothing of the Force and so lacked defenses against it. Her vision clouded, her body going lax as her resistance slipped way.

"I will have him sent to you," she agreed.

Ren fought the urge to smile. Instead he drew back, watching passively as Phasma replaced her helmet and left the room. Tomorrow she would forget she was even here, but for now Ren was content his seed was planted. General Hux thought he could override Ren's authority, but he too knew nothing of the Force, and it would prove his fatal undoing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting chapters 7 & 8 simultaneously as the compliment one another.

XVIII.

He battered against her defenses, but still she kept him at bay.

It was a near thing, each attack sapping her of her strength, Rey pushed well beyond the point of exhaustion. _Enough_ , she wanted to say, desperate for it to end. But Kylo Ren would show no quarter and so neither could Luke. She had asked him to train her, to prepare her, so that she could do what she must to save Finn.

He flanked her left, striking out with the Force even as his lightsaber slashed through the air. Rey brought up hers to counter, blue against green, light sparking between them. A faint wisp of burning flesh caught her nose, but it was only memory, amplified by the Force, Luke's attacks not solely limited to their dance.

"You leave yourself open," he told her, coming at her this time from the right. Rey grit her teeth. She parried his blow and then allowed momentum to carry her into a spin, her saber coming across her body as she stepped back into his space. Luke deflected her easily.

"This would be easier if I had a staff," she said, not bothering to hide her frustration. It pooled around her, seductive, vibrating energy she needed only reach for and then...

"Enough!"

Rey blinked, and found Luke standing several feet away, the hilt of his lightsaber hanging uselessly in his hand. Rey immediately sheathed hers.

"If I had a staff..." She wanted to explain, but Luke raised a hand, silencing her mid-sentence.

"When it is time, you will harvest your own crystal and use it to build your own weapon, but I will permit you neither of those things until I am assured you will never do that again."

Rey narrowed her gaze, allowing her confusion to show. She shook her head, still not entirely sure what Luke had meant.

"Rey," Luke said, coming then to stand before her. He set a hand upon her shoulder, Rey sagging beneath its weight.

"When you allow your frustration, your anger, to take control, you are drawing strength from the darkside. I cannot train you if there is a chance you might succumb. The universe could not bear the strain. I am sorry."

He paused then, his gaze growing distance, the gentleness of his expression vanishing behind an inscrutable mask. The hand on her shoulder fell away.

"You are not ready," he told her, though he made no move to leave. 

"I won't reach for it again, I promise." Rey scrambled to reassure him. His expression remained the same, though he stepped back, coming again into a fighting stance, his lightsaber held before him.

"Again," he said, activating his lightsaber. Torn between terror and exhaustion, Rey had little choice but to activate hers.

She held it before her, blue light wavering as her hand shook. She could feel it now, fear and frustration and anger drifting within her reach, the darkside of the Force surging with power she'd never known. But to reach for it was to offer Kylo Ren victory, something she couldn't allow, not if she hoped to rescue Finn; not if they hoped to defeat the First Order.

 _For Finn_ , she thought, drawing strength, not from her frustration, but from the warmth of her memories, the lightside filling her with strength, Rey stepping forward to meet Luke Skywalker's blade.

 

XIX.

FN-2187 didn't remember his dreams, except of course when he did.

It took several long minutes of staring up at the bunk above him, soft red light displacing the darkness, for FN-2187 to register what had woken him. He spent another long minute trying to piece together why this felt familiar; why he half expected FN-3610 to appear above him.

Nightmares, Ten had told him, but this wasn't a nightmare.

He remembered only flashes, sensations mostly: a creeping heat; his skin pebbled with gooseflesh; his heart racing; steadying hands. They'd settled on his hips, dragging him forward, FN-2187 going willingly, his mouth suddenly dry.

The memory of it caught in the back of his throat, his breath going shallow. He closed his eyes, straining then to recall even the slightest detail. Edges of the dream skirted his peripheral vision, brief flashes of vibrant colour; languid movement. There was something there, he knew it, but the more he reached for it the further it drifted.

Exasperated, FN-2187 opened his eyes.

He was still in his bunk, though he wasn't entirely sure why that was a surprised. The room was still bathed in red, the echoing darkness of the barracks terrifyingly familiar. He recalled then yesterday's training exercise, Kylo Ren's presence as unexpected as it was jarrring. If anything ought to have triggered a nightmare it was that: Kylo Ren's gaze following him across the room, FN-2187 convinced that he knew, that it was only a matter of time before FN-2187 was sent for.

He was running out of time, he knew that too, his window for leaving the First Order on the verge of closing. He'd underestimated the difficulty of finding something to trade. He doubted the Resistance would come for him just because he asked, and every day he wasted was a day he risked exposure. The pressure would give anyone nightmares.

Except, the dream hadn't felt like a nightmare. It felt... Important.

All the more reason to remember, he thought, again closing his eyes.

He let himself drift this time, not reaching for the dream, but surrendering to it. He had no idea where the thought had come from, but it felt like the right thing to do, FN-2187 trusting his instincts in this as he did everything else.

At first nothing happened, FN-2187 questioning why he'd ever thought this might work--why he still thought this might work, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary--and then something shifted, FN-2187 no longer floating in the void.

Air, he realized, he could feel the air, the slide of it against his skin a shock. He stamped down the urge to reach for it, instead waiting patiently, perfectly still as the ground formed beneath his feet.

He had feet, he realized, boot clad, though they didn't belong to his armour. Slowly the rest of him materialized, FN-2187 momentarily startled by civilian clothes, soft and grey and without a hint of white. He spun a slow circle. This wasn't the Penalizer. It was nowhere FN-2187 could remember having ever been.

A training room, he thought, the floor lined with mats, these mismatched and badly scuffed. The walls were ordinary metal, like the hull of a ship, but aged beyond anything the First Order would have permitted. A ship perhaps, but then it didn't feel like a ship. The gravity was different, FN-2187 weighed down by his limbs.

He was also acutely aware of his back, FN-2187 shifting against the dull ache that radiated down his spine.

"You sure you're up for it?" someone asked, FN-2187 spinning to find its source.

Doing so displaced the dream, colours swirling in infinite loops. FN-2187 caught between them, the edges of his vision going black.

And then hands were settling on his hips, dragging him forward, steadying him, FN-2187 leaning into the warmth, his vision swimming. Piece by piece the world came back into focus, colours coalescing into substance and form. A hand on his hip tightened. FN-2187 blinked, and found himself staring into impossibly familiar eyes.

With startling and alarming clarity, FN-2187 realized that he knew this man.

But in place of a name there was only familiar warmth. The man's gaze grew soft, open worry colouring his eyes. He removed a hand from FN-2187's hip and brought it to FN-2187's shoulder, FN-2187 shuddering inside their near embrace. The man swayed towards him. FN-2187 blinked.

And found himself staring at the bunk above his, soft red light replaced by glaring white. He bolted upright, heart pounding in his chest. _What was that?_ he thought furiously, the question oddly familiar. He could picture the man perfectly: warm brown eyes, the slight press of his lips; hair falling in cascades around his ears. FN-2187 knew him, and yet...

He realized then the others were awake, a quick glance at the chronometer on the far wall betraying the late hour. He'd overslept--unheard of and certainly nothing he could ever remember doing. FN-3610 was the first to noticed. He paused in the middle of donning his armour to meet FN-2187's questioning gaze.

"No one could wake you. Phasma wants us on the simulation deck in ten," he said, sounding annoyed.

The dream lingered, brown eyes beckoning him back to the void, but he was already treading on thin ice, any deviation likely to end in reconditioning and for the first time in a long time, he had something to lose. It left him little choice, FN-2187 scrambling from his bunk.

#

Ten minutes later he stood on the simulation deck, his heart racing, his breath still coming in laboured pants.

He knew the importance of maintaining the illusion of compliance, and yet it grew increasingly difficult to concentrate. He wanted to understand what it meant, to know exactly what they'd taken from him. He wanted it almost as badly as he wanted away from the First Order.

Phasma could give him neither of those things.

She stood amongst them on the simulation deck, not unheard of, but it was rare she didn't watch from the observation deck, FN-2187 acutely aware of her presence. She let her gaze touch each of them in turn, FN-2187 telling himself he imagined the way she paused she reached his place in the line. Apparently he was wrong.

"FN-2187," she said, stepping forward. A wave of terror struck at his core, FN-2187 fisting his hands to keep from them from trembling.

Hidden behind her helmet, he couldn't see her expression, and yet there was something decidedly indecisive about the way she held herself, as though she battled an already made decision. Did she know? He couldn't let them recondition him, not again. He'd lose everything: his confirmed suspicions; his plans for leaving; warm brown eyes.

He glanced once to the weapons locker, six blasters lined alongside 4 batons, and calculated his odds. They weren't particularly good. Better, however, than reconditioning. Given the option, FN-2187 knew which of the two he'd choose.

If Phasma noticed his debate, she didn't say anything, her own resolve hardening, whatever battle she'd waged fought and won. She tilted her head before speaking.

"You are to report at once to the combat deck, section G-7."

That was it, nothing else, FN-2187 frozen in place, unsure how best to proceed. Had she said the infirmary, he might have lunged for a weapon, but only those chosen for special duty were sent to the combat deck. Something that felt terrifyingly like hope blossomed in his chest. If they meant to promote him, they might send him off ship, and if they sent him off ship...

FN-2187 straightened his spine, hoping that Phasma mistook the gesture for pride.

"Yes, Captain," he said.

She dismissed him then, FN-2187 fighting the instinct to run from the room. His limbs felt heavy, his mind clouded with doubt, but Phasma had given him something he'd desperately needed: hope.

 

// 

He still woke each night expecting the glow of First Order red. The colour was seared behind his eyelids, Finn seeing it every time he closed his eyes. He caught glimpses of it whenever he turned his head, half his nightmares spent locked in a red-lit room, the colour triggering his instinct to run.

Poe's rooms were bathed in blue. Most of that came from BB-8's docking station, but every so often the power went out, D'Qar subject to frequent storms, and then the emergency lights would come on, close enough to red that Finn was immediately transported, Poe's features vanishing behind an indistinguishable mask.

Poe disconnected the emergency lights inside their room after the third such occurrence.

"What if there's an attack?" Finn had asked, but Poe had shaken his head and assured Finn someone would come and get them.

He thought about that now, staring out into the darkness, BB-8's blue light pressing against the red. A low hum accompanied the charging of their battery, the sound a pleasant distraction from the otherwise stillness of the room. Finn glanced to Poe's empty bunk.

"They want us debriefed now, so don't wait up," he'd said, leaving BB-8 in their port and then vanishing, Finn alone for the first time since the medbay. He couldn't bring himself to close his eyes.

How many times had he woken, drenched in sweat, voice hoarse from shouting? How many times had Poe's low whisper soothed him back to sleep? More than once Finn regretted not taking the single room, Poe's life undoubtedly sidelined by Finn's inability to sleep. Alone now for the first time in their shared room, Finn no longer regretted his choice. He wasn't sure he could have tolerated sleeping alone.

As a stormtrooper, he'd slept sixteen to a room.

Staring at Poe's empty bunk, Finn gave up on the notion of sleep.

There were things he could do: holovids he could watch and datapads he could read, but he was still too keyed up, the pilots out on a mission while he'd stayed behind, not yet cleared for active duty, with only training and General Organa's debriefings to occupy his mind. He felt... Not useless, per se, but misplaced, Finn used to pulling his weight.

"Give it time," Kala had said, the suggestion echoed by General Organa and Poe, but stormtroopers weren't given time, keep up or get left behind practically their mantra.

What he needed was purpose, not the physiotherapy Kala had him doing or the range work Dr. Kalonia had signed off on. He needed to be on the ground, fighting alongside troops, doing his part to stop the First Order. Maybe then he'd stop dreaming in red. Maybe then he'd get a decent night's sleep.

His spine still pulled when he moved, aching but not sore, Finn aware of it in a way he wasn't before, but no longer distracted by its healing. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, feet flexing against bare floor.

This wasn't new, but it still delighted him, a wide smile spreading across his features. _Take that, Kylo Ren_ , he thought, knowing full well he'd defied the odds. How many had taken a lightsaber to the back and lived to tell the tale? When he was strong enough, if Rey didn't get to him first, Finn fully intended to return the favour.

As purposes went, Finn thought it a fairly good one.

There was a training room the next junction over, nothing fancy--not like he was used to--but it served its purpose. He found himself there sometimes, getting used to the movement of his new spine, rebuilding his strength. It seemed as good an option as any, so Finn shrugged into a pair of soft grey pants, pausing only to tuck his sleep shirt into their waistband before slipping on a pair of boots.

The corridor outside his room was empty. Finn picked his way carefully, D'Qar's clutter extending even here. It meant he spent more time looking at his feet than he did looking ahead, which was probably why he sensed Poe before he spotted him.

He had no idea how he did it, intuition perhaps, or maybe that was just Poe, Finn hyper aware of him in a way he wasn't other people. Either way, one minute Finn was alone and the next Poe was coming around the corner, Finn glancing up in time to watch Poe freeze, a flicker of concern flashing across his features. Finn offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"You do know how late it is," Poe said.

"I was thinking more that it was early," Finn tried. Poe's expression grew sympathetic.

"Can't sleep?" he asked. Finn shook his head.

"I was going to get in some forms before breakfast."

Poe nodded at that, Finn half expecting him to continue on to their rooms. Instead he pivoted, falling in at Finn's side and starting them towards the training room.

"Still keyed up from the mission, never mind the landing. It's brutal out there. Leia's debriefing didn't exactly help, so if you don't mind the company..." he said.

It struck Finn then that he'd missed Poe, somewhat more than he'd initially realized. He'd only been gone the day, but apparently that was all that it took, Poe presence now a fixture in his life.

"How'd it go, or is that confidential?" Finn asked. Poe offered a shrug.

"Waste of time. As far as we can tell the First Order has gone so deep into hiding they might as well not exist."

He sounded frustrated, and tired, very tired. Finn could sympathize. Knowing General Hux and Kylo Ren were alive didn't do them much good if they didn't know where they were. Finn briefly considered suggesting they return to their quarters, but he knew Poe well enough now to know sleep wasn't what he was looking for. They had that in common.

"You want to go a round?" he asked when the reached the training room, Finn halfway across the room before he realized Poe was no longer following.

He turned then, finding Poe frozen inside the door, curious expression playing over his features. _Is something wrong?_ he wanted to ask, but Poe didn't look upset. If anything he looked amused, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"You sure you're up for it?" he asked, shaking his head and coming fully into the room. His gaze drifted to the weapons rack, where a line of practice swords sat dented and abused.

Finn meant to answer, to remind Poe that Poe wasn't very good with a sword, so they were probably evenly matched. He opened his mouth to say as much, but then the lights flickered, caught momentarily in indecision before they finally went out completely, the resulting darkness as disorienting as it was overwhelming. Finn had half a seconds warning before the emergency backup lights came on, nowhere near enough time prepare himself for the vibrancy of their orange.

In an instant he was back inside the First Order, armed trooper striding towards him, FN-2187 fumbling with the shield in his hand. _No_ , he wanted to scream, but then Poe was crowding into his space, his hands settling on Finn's hips, anchoring him in place.

"Finn?" he asked, a little uncertain, though this was hardly the first time.

That didn't make it any less mortifying.

Still, focusing on Poe was easier than focusing on the lights, so Finn forced himself to meet Poe's gaze, his heart still racing, his breath shallow and uneven. He felt himself sway forward, Poe releasing one of Finn's hips to brace a steadying hand against Finn's shoulder. Slowly the room came back into focus, the First Order falling away.

"Okay?" Poe asked when it was over.

"Yeah." Finn nodded.

"You know, I could get General Organa to change the bulbs. What are your thoughts on yellow?" Poe asked as he cautiously removed his hands. Finn immediately missed his touch, though for an entirely different reason.

"We barely have enough food stores. I'm not going to put in a requisition for bulbs." He paused then, the weight of the day taking its toll. "I do think I should maybe look into Dr. Kalonia's meds. She said they'd help, and we both know General Organa's not going to let me out into the field like this."

Poe stepped forward then, not as close as he was before, but close enough that Finn could make out flecks of colour in his irises. He offered Finn a crooked smile, the kind Finn associated with Poe's more vulnerable moments.

"Well, if you want testimonial, I can personally vouch for them," he said, tapping the side of his head.

His smile grew serious then, bottom lip drawing between his teeth. He glanced briefly to the door before turning back to Finn.

"I don't know about you, but I think the day is finally starting to catch up with me," he said. "Rain check?"

It was an out, Finn knew, but it was also a request, Poe looking about as exhausted as Finn felt. Maybe it was the flashback, or maybe just the promise of company, but Finn found himself nodding, Poe shooting him a brilliant smile before leading them from the room.


	9. Chapter 9

XX.

An x-wing wasn't all that different from an a-wing, at least, not where it counted. The repulsorlift still sat under the flight computer, a hydraulic line was still a hydraulic line, and the primary sensor array still had a tendency to gum up, regular maintenance crucial.

He'd spent as much time under his mom's a-wing as he had in it, his mother's cheeks dark with grease, her hands steady as she guided his touch. _Follow the connections_ , she'd say, Poe's tiny fingers tracing the coils of the power converter, or feeling for leaks along the life support lines. He knew every inch of that ship, just like he knew every inch of Black One. No one touched his starfighter, Poe meticulous in her care.

Today it was one the thrust engines, its power cutting in low orbits. He needed a new compressor, but finding one was proving as elusive as finding Finn.

"We could try stripping it again," he mused, though given its current condition there wasn't much to strip. Hovering at his side, BB-8 trilled a long chain of binary.

"You're kidding," Poe said. "She bypassed it?"

The idea wasn't without merit, though he'd have to pull all four and stars only knew what that would do to his speed. Poe shook his head. No wonder Finn liked her. He suspected his mother would have liked her too. Funny how she kept coming up today.

But that was the thing about losing people. You never really got over them. Oh, the galaxy continued to rotate, days still bled into night, wars were still fought and won, but unlike a starship you couldn't just pull a compressor and expect to fly. 

Kriff it, he was pulling the compressors.

"Beebee-Ate, I need you to run some simulations, make sure this isn't going to come back and bite me in the ass."

He pulled himself out from under the engine as he spoke, oil stained hands leaving fingerprints on the underside of the engine's carriage. They were barely visible against the black of Black One's paint, but Poe reached for a cloth anyway, rubbing at the marks until he'd buffed them clean.

He started on his hands next, halfway through the task when Jessika Pava arrived, the sound of her boots ringing against the ferrocrete a dead give away.

"Let me guess," Poe said, without glancing up. He continued to scrub at his hands. "Kare wasn't available."

He did glance up then, taken aback by the seriousness of her expression. Jess and Kare both knew they were watching out for him, and they knew that he knew, so there was hardly a cause for distress, unless...

"What happened?"

He stood as he spoke, rag falling uselessly to the ground. His hands were still gritty and black, Poe curling them into fists, mostly to keep from grabbing the front of Jessika's flightsuit, the desire to haul her in by the lapels and shake the information from her almost overwhelming.

"General Organa's looking for you," Jessika said, stoic in a way she never was. Poe's heart lodged in his throat.

"Did they find him?"

Jessika gave a minute shake of her head, but didn't answer. Grease forgotten, Poe wrapped a filthy hand around her wrist.

"Please, I need to know."

"You need to see it for yourself. Poe, you're not going to like it..."

He didn't hear anything after that, Poe running long before she finished speaking. After last night, after the whiskey and Kare's words of comfort, he thought he was prepared for this. _Just hold on a little longer, Poe._ , she'd said. Give them time. It was a promise, one he knew Kare couldn't keep, just like his father had promised him the pain of his mother's passing would fade. It hadn't, but Poe had chosen to believe her, and now here he was, aware for perhaps the first time since Finn's disappearance that this wasn't an end.

A cold, growing doubt told him this wasn't a beginning either.

He arrived inside the command centre just as General Organa's techs were clearing it. A handful of people still lingered, though Leia shooed them from the room the second she spotted him. Poe took in the lines around her eyes; the thin press of her lips.

"Is he dead?" he heard himself ask, his voice oddly distant, as though Poe was hearing himself from across the room. Something bumped against his ankle, Poe barely registering BB-8s' arrival.

"Is he dead?" he said again, a fine tremor running through his hands. Leia ignored him.

Instead she moved about the room, switching off internal surveillance and then double checking the door. When she was finished, she came to stand before him.

"As far as we know he's alive."

Poe frowned. The statement should have brought relief. Instead there was only confusion.

"We have a small problem," she told him.

The room was cleared, he realized, only the two of them and BB-8 remaining. Poe glanced to the locked door and then back to Leia. She was watching him expectantly.

"You're going to have to fill me in," he said.

His limbs still felt heavy, terror still caught in his throat, the last few days--months--weighing on him a way they hadn't before. He followed Leia to one of the terminals, Poe recognizing one of Padwal's encryption signatures.

"Last night there was a security breach, here. Someone accessed the mainframe. We believe they were attempting to delete the data dump from Padwal's database."

Perhaps sensing his growing horror, Leia raised a hand.

"We had it stored on about six redundant systems, plus your original cube, so they weren't successful, but that's not really the point."

Poe nodded. He glanced again to the screen, seeing Padwal's data on display. It was only somewhat reassuring.

"The First Order operative," he said.

"We never found anyone. Might be the same person, might not." Leia shrugged. How she functioned knowing the things she knew Poe couldn't imagine. He'd never met anyone stronger. Were their positions reversed, he might have cracked, the pressure she was under immeasurable.

"General, I'm sorry..."

Leia immediately cut him off.

"Not your fault, and I didn't mean to insinuate it was, but we do have a problem, because now the First Order knows we have this data and there's a good chance it puts Finn at risk."

His hands were shaking again, Poe not bothering to hide them. All this time, all this searching and for what? For Poe to show up late? Again? He shook his head.

"Have they at least found something?" There had to be something. If the First Order was willing to risk an operative to destroy the data then there had to be something.

Leia looked like she was bracing herself to give bad news. Poe deflated.

"We think we've found his ship assignment," she said, raising a hand to quell his excitement. Poe didn't like where the conversation was going.

"You're joking," he said.

"No. Padwal had a ship manifesto in his possession. Finn, or rather FN-2187 is onboard the Penalizer."

Poe let that sink in, because of course Finn was on the Penalizer. Where else would he be? What better place for a reintegrated ex-stormtrooper than General Hux's new flagship and the home of Kylo Ren? Where else but the same damned ship the Resistance had been searching for almost from the beginning? The same damned ship they were searching for when Poe's intel put them down on Aris. The same damned ship they still couldn't find.

Because of course Finn was there too. Of course he was.

"So now what?" Poe asked, at a loss.

If Leia had an answer, she opted not to share.

~*~

 

_Poe toyed with the datapad in his hand. Across the table, Jessika Pava stared at him intently._

_"This is what you picked up over the wire?" he asked, not to verify, but because he needed to hear it first hand, Poe half afraid he was dreaming._

_"Clear as day," Pava answered. Poe shook his head._

_Aside from Iolo, they were only ones using the debriefing room, Poe knee deep in passenger manifests, Leia's operative proving elusive. That was his mission, and what he should be focusing on, however..._

_"What do you think?" he asked, handing the datapad to Iolo who gave it only a cursory glance before shaking his head._

_"It sounds like a trap."_

_He wasn't wrong, but..._

_"Okay, so there's a good chance it's a trap." Poe took the datapad back. "The question is, for whom?"_

_Jessika offered a shrug. "They weren't exactly trying to hide it. The transmission wasn't even encrypted."_

_And okay, definitely a trap, but that didn't mean it wasn't worth exploring. It did, after all, make sense, and he could see the First Order wanting to announce the execution of a known deserter. It was also possible they wanted the Resistance to know. Poe rubbed his palm against his chest, trying and failing to displace growing tension._

_"We need to bring this to General Organa," he said._

_He needed sleep, the last few weeks taking their toll. Jessika and Iolo were watching him expectantly, Jessika like any moment she was going to draw him into a hug. Poe ran a shaky hand through his hair._

_He owed it to General Organa to let her make the call, but he was terrified--terrified--she'd write the transmission off as bait. Even if this was a trap he'd never forgive himself if he didn't at least look. Setting the datapad down on the table, Poe glanced first to Jessika, and then to Iolo._

_"Or," he said, "we don't involve the Resistance. Just a couple of rogue pilots disobeying orders."_

_It had the added advantage of keeping the Resistance out of the fight, something Poe knew they weren't ready for, not yet, still reeling from their losses after Starkiller._

_"She's not going to like it," Iolo said. It wasn't a no. Poe caught Jessika's eye._

_"You know I've got your back, all your pilots do, but yeah, she's gonna be pissed."_

_All the more reason for her not to find out, Poe thought._

_"Okay, then, if this is accurate," he tapped the datapad, "we've got two days to come up with a plan, preferably one that's not going to get us killed."_

_Easier said than done, but if anyone was up for the task, it was his pilots. They still had an operative at large, and there was a good chance this was all for nothing, but there was also a chance, however slim, this might lead them to Finn, and at this point anything was better than nothing._

_#_

_Of course, keeping anything from the General was a near impossible task. She didn't talk about--no one did--but there wasn't a person inside the Resistance who didn't know. Leia Organa was a Force wielder. Some of the better rumours painted her a bonafide Jedi. Why Poe ever thought he could keep this from her..._

_"The plan wasn't to engage," Jessika tried explaining. Suited and ready to fly, she looked as terrified as she did defeated. Hiding behind her, Iolo nodded. Poe shook his head._

_"General, I'm sorry, but don't blame them. They were following orders."_

_Leia, whose gaze had never left his, arched a pointed eyebrow. She stood before Jessika's x-wing, dwarfed inside its shadow and yet her very presence filled the room. More than one technician stood on the periphery, watching the exchange with intense interest._

_"You're telling me you ordered your pilots to leave this base without authorization; to jump to a potentially hostile system; and to engage in surveillance against a known Resistance enemy."_

_Poe gave a reluctant nod._

_"And this has nothing to do with the transmission one of your pilots intercepted yesterday?"_

_Because of course she knew._

_"What gave us away?" Poe asked, running a sheepish hand along the back of his neck. Leia deflated. A fond expression settled over her features._

_"The First Order broadcasted that wire across the entire galaxy, Poe. The second I heard it I knew you'd go after it. I rather thought you'd show up to ask first."_

_Jessika and Iolo were still crowded behind him, but Jessika pressed forward now, her expression somewhat pleading._

_"We didn't think you'd authorize it, but you have to let us go. We won't engage unless we have to. There's a class A nebula just outside the system. We can make the jump without being detected."_

_Iolo came forward to stand at Jessika's side._

_"We're just going to stick our noses out. If Finn's there, we'll jump back, scramble the other pilots. Wire's telemetry puts the transmission in the Devlon system. There's an asteroid belt we can use for cover. We lure out the TIEs, let Poe..."_

_Leia held up a hand, her expression pinched. Across the flightdeck, Kare and Snap stood with L'ulo and Bastian, the four of them watching the proceedings like they were prepared to intervene at any moment. Poe waved them down. He met Leia's gaze._

_"We've run the numbers. This is doable."_

_"I don't doubt that," Leia said. "What I doubt is your objectivity. You and I both know the second Finn's within your reach this plan goes out the window."_

_She paused then, holding up her hand, perhaps sensing Poe's objection._

_"This isn't open for debate. You can execute this plan, full sanctioning, but you're not going."_

_Of all the things he was expecting, this wasn't it. Poe stared, dumbfounded, his mind racing with objections. Of course it had to be him. No one else was allowed to bring Finn home. Surely she understood that. Surely she knew how important this..._

_"I'm not grounding you, Poe. But until your team gets back, you're not leaving my side. If, not when, if they confirm it's Finn, I won't stop you leading the rescue, but you're sitting out the reconnaissance."_

_He knew better than to argue, but oh how he wanted to. It wouldn't make any difference, Leia's resolve stronger than anything he knew. Poe grit his teeth. This wasn't part of the plan, but for Finn's sake he'd sit this one out._

_"They find him, I'm the one who pulls him out," Poe said, remembering a time when he wouldn't have dared speak to any superior officer this way, let alone one of his childhood heroes._

_But Leia being Leia, she merely smiled, fond exasperation colouring her features. He was half tempted to climb into Black One regardless of her orders, but she had a point, and Jessika and Iolo were more than capable of scoping the situation._

_"Find him and get back as soon as you can," he told them. He didn't wait for a reply, Leia beckoning him to her side._

_"We'll track them from the command centre," she told him as they left the flight deck, Poe relieved to learn he'd at least get open comms._

_It still grated, Poe too keyed up to settle into a passive role. She was probably right, he realized, Poe not entirely sure he could have jumped away knowing Finn was in reach. Still..._

_He tried letting his body go limp, shaking his limbs one by one to displace some of the tension. By the time they reached the command centre he was still antsy, but he'd mostly resigned himself to his fate._

_"Captain Arana, Lieutenant Pava, you are clear to launch," one of the technicians said as they came into the room, Poe's gaze flying immediately to Leia. She offered a shrug._

_"Oh don't look so surprised," she said, Poe torn between mortification and amusement. Poe shook his head. He should have known she had her own plans. He turned his attention to the command table._

_This was the part he wasn't good at. Stick him in a starfighter, point him at the enemy and he was in his element. Stick him on the ground with an objective and a mission and he would get it done. But stick him beside a command table with nothing to do but wait and listen and Poe thought he might crawl out of his skin._

_He listened intently while Jessika and Iolo powered their starfighters. He listened to them clear orbit and then reach the jump point. He listened to them jump. Time stretched forward, thirty-six minutes in hyperspace--they were so close, Poe half convinced they'd set down nearby just to bait them. He stared at the chronometre, watching it count down the minutes. Each second seemed to last an eternity._

_When finally it reached zero, red numbers flashing, Poe held his breath. Five, four, three..._

_"Command centre, we're in position. We... Kriffing hell."_

_Poe glanced from the chronometer to the readouts from Pava's sensory array, his breath catching as he took in the readings._

_"Get out of there," he yelled, counting dozens upon dozens of TIEs. They'd plotted their arrival point inside the nebula, hoping to escape notice, but apparently so had the First Order, Poe frantically scanning the data, nothing bigger than a boarding shuttle, certainly nothing he'd associate with the pomp and ceremony of a First Order execution._

_Finn wasn't there, all of this a trap right from the start. He'd known--his every instinct telling him as much--and yet he was so desperate to find Finn he'd willingly sent two of his pilots--two of his friends--into harm's way. If anything happened to either of them he'd never forgive himself._

_The comm links were open, Iolo giving a rundown of what he was seeing, gathering intel even as he and Jessika fled from oncoming TIEs. They needed to jump, but without enough distance they risked dragging the TIEs into hyperspace with them, allowing the TIEs to follow them back to base. After D'Qar, the last thing the Resistance needed was the First Order finding their new location._

_Sensory data suggested laser fire, Jessika and Iolo evading as best they could. Tracking their progress on the starmap, it was clear they were heading for the asteroid belt._

_"They won't be able to jump from there," Admiral Ackbar said._

_"Yeah, but they can't outrun a TIE," Poe countered._

_Tense silence settled over the room. From inside the command centre they could watch, they could advise, they could plan, but there wasn't a damned thing else they could do._

_"General," Poe said, Leia immediately meeting his gaze. "Let me take a couple of squadrons out to meet them. There aren't that many TIEs."_

_If anything, Poe thought, there were enough to overwhelm a single ship, a serious threat against two x-wings, but not against 8. He began to wonder if the trap they'd sprung was even meant for them._

_"Hold on, that might not be necessary," one of the technicians said, Poe's attention drawn to the command table. Sensory data suggested Jessika and Iolo were still heading towards the asteroid belt, but it looked like..._

_"Are they retreating?" he asked._

_"It looks like they changed their mind. They're heading back to the nebula," the technician answered. Poe shook his head. He let his gaze drift back to Leia._

_"Wrong quarry," she said. "Tell Captain Arana and Lieutenant Pava they're cleared to come home. And somebody calculate my brother's next transmission window."_

_She caught Poe's eye then, unspoken assumption passing between them. The First Order weren't looking for the Resistance. They were looking for Rey and Luke Skywalker, Finn the bait._

_"Kriff," Poe said under his breath, already heading back to the flight deck, needing then to welcome his pilots home._

 

XXI.

The last time they stood this close, FN-2187 held his grandfather's lightsaber, defiant fear etched upon his face.

Cloaked in stormtrooper armour, his features were hidden, but Kylo Ren could feel his fear: it radiated from him in pulsing waves, FN-2187 near trembling with it. Ren permitted himself a small smile. He still bore the traitor's mark, just as he knew FN-2187 bore his.

"FN-2187," he said, relishing the way the traitor flinched.

It amused him to think he'd quashed the last tendrils of FN-2187's hope, FN-2187 undoubtedly thinking he'd been summoned here for promotion. The combat deck was designed for tactical training, above what ordinary stormtroopers received. Assignment here usually ended with a coloured pauldron; a squad to command.

"You seem surprised. Should I have chosen an interrogation cell instead?"

That got a reaction, FN-2187's spine snapping straight, his body flooding with tension. Ren half expected a direct attack. He braced himself for it, FN-2187's fear pooling around him, feeding into the darkside. Ren smiled.

FN-2187 remained frozen in place, so Ren began a slow circuit of the room, section G-7 one of 64 command simulation fields. A holographic sandtable sat in its centre, the outer walls occupied by control consoles, holodisplays and status readouts. Overhead, an observation deck ringed the room. FN-2187 stood just inside the door, caught between what Ren imagined was a desire to run and overly simplistic First Order conditioning.

"You'll be pleased to know I didn't summon you here for reconditioning," Ren said. He circled the sandtable as he spoke, gloved hand trailing along its ledge, his gaze locked on FN-2187.

"You know, of course. Or if you don't, you suspect it."

The scavenger was the same, such open surprise at being offered simple honesty, as though truth was such a rare and precious gift. Ren scoffed, truth insignificant against the power of the darkside. FN-2187 would learn.

He completed a full circuit of the room and then came to stand before FN-2187, Ren sensing then the same horror FN-2187 had worn watching Han Solo's fall. He too saw Ren's father as a father-figure. Pathetic.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked, allowing tendrils to creep beyond FN-2187's helmet. His thoughts were guarded, so much fear--intolerable amounts of fear--Ren surprised FN-2187 could function for it.

Still rooted in his spot, FN-2187 shook his head.

Ren smiled.

"I have something to offer you, a gift, but first I need something in return. Can you do that for me?"

Unlike the scavenger, whose mind was an open desert, scraps of discarded metal shielding her innermost thoughts--so easy to cast aside--FN-2187's mind was a series of vaults, each sealed against him. Far easier to pry into the mind of the pilot, his a dense jungle, overgrown but easily hacked. Ren pressed forward, fingers straining against _Finn's_ doors.

"What?" FN-2187 said, the first he'd spoken. He staggered back a step, his fear pulsing with wild uncertainty. Ren felt it stutter against his chest.

"You felt it," Ren said, shocked to his very core. For the first time since he'd conceived this plan, he began to doubt. The scavenger was bad enough. She'd slipped past the tangle of his webs, peering in where she wasn't wanted. This was different, the traitor casting aside his webs completely, plucking out a name, one Ren refused to acknowledge. It should have been impossible. None save Snoke had so thoroughly penetrated his mind.

"I..." FN-2187 was panicking now, on the verge Ren thought of dissociating completely. "I didn't feel anything. I don't know anything. I..."

Ren pressed forward. Several of the vaults were open now, Ren riffling through them, finding guarded memories: a face above his bunk, bathed in red; an icy battle, fought amongst the trees--Ren smiled; a simfield, littered with bodies, orange clad sim-pilot extending a hand.

The vault slammed shut.

The force of it was agony, Ren cast aside, pushed almost forcefully from FN-2187's mind. He came away damp with sweat, his breath ragged inside his mask. FN-2187 remained frozen in place, trembling now as though on the verge of collapse. Ren doubted he knew what he'd done. It ought to have been impossible.

"I..." FN-2187 said, sounding utterly confused.

And this is what Snoke didn't see, the inherent danger in leaving FN-2187 untethered. All of their plans laid to waste. It struck him then he wasn't strong enough, not to infiltrate FN-2187's vaults and not to bend FN-2187 to his will. What good were Snoke's plans, the First Order's plans when such power hung in the balance. Ren seethed with frustration.

"You do not know half the power you possess, but all of this, the reconditioning, the fear, all of it could end if you only..."

The sound of ringing boots from in the hall stilled his words, Ren near shaking with suppressed rage. He wanted to strike out, to draw his lightsaber and run the traitor through. Only the thought of Snoke's disapproval stopped him. The boots drew nearer. Ren immediately identified their source.

He straightened then, forcing aside his rage. Before him FN-2187 trembled, his mind still closed though something new seeped into the Force. Relief, Ren thought, though for the briefest of moments he thought he caught a hint of triumph. It was gone almost immediately, Ren terrified by its implication.

He risked the full force of Snoke's wrath, but he had to be warned, Ren pivoting just as General Hux strode into the room.

"Ah, General," Ren said, cutting off whatever lecture Hux intended. "I believe one of your stormtroopers has been misplaced. Do return him for me."

He didn't wait for a response, ignoring the curl of Hux's lip and the bright spark of anger that rolled off him. He brushed past him on the way out the door, allowing their shoulders to knock together, Ren relishing the brief flicker of pain that radiated down his arm. He didn't stop, not when Hux shouted for him, not when Hux ordered him, Ren striding towards the assembly hall with purpose and intent. If Hux had something to say, he could say it before the Supreme Leader.


	10. Chapter 10

XXII.

 _Don't run_.

Running, he knew, would draw attention, something FN-2187 was desperate to avoid, and yet his every instinct was telling him to run, terror clawing at his throat, the certainty of impending doom looming before him.

Kylo Ren was in his head.

Kylo Ren was in his head and yet somehow FN-2187 was alive and whole, both impossible things; things he couldn't begin to understand. A gift, Kylo Ren had said, FN-2187's head filled with half forgotten images, memories FN-2187 knew instinctively belonged to him, but why give them back?

Whatever Kylo Ren had done it had opened a floodgate, FN-2187 knowing things he couldn't possibly have known. He'd stood beneath the terrifying power of the Supreme Leader, felt a trembling disturbance in the Force. He knew Kylo Ren's ambitions, his blinding compulsion to find and destroy Luke Skywalker, the failure gnawing at his gut. He'd seen, too, the First Order's ambitions, their desire to shape the universe in their image.

He knew now their plans.

 _You do not know half the power you possess_.

FN-2187 staggered, Kylo Ren's words echoing in his ears. _What power?_ he wanted to scream, his heart pounding in his chest.

The path from the combat decks to his barracks was long, filled with stormtroopers going about their various duties. A few glanced in his direction, curious gazes hidden by their masks. FN-2187's breath grew shallow, black spots obscuring his vision. He wasn't going to make it, panic seizing in his chest.

At the next junction, he slipped into an alcove. It wasn't deep, but there was enough space to duck behind a bulkhead, FN-2187 hidden from view, secure enough to tear off his helmet. He drew a shaking breath and willed his vision to clear.

He could still feel Kylo Ren in his head, grease stained fingerprints smeared across his thoughts. It left him feeling tainted... violated, and yet whatever Kylo Ren had done, he'd given FN-2187 exactly what he'd needed. Was it the Force? He'd heard enough stories to know Kylo Ren could invade his thoughts, steal his inner most secrets, but it wasn't supposed to work the other way, was it? A niggling worry entered his mind. Had Kylo Ren seen his plans? How much did he know?

But no, FN-2187 told himself. He wouldn't be alive, let alone walking back to his barracks with his memories intact if Kylo Ren knew. Even General Hux's presence wouldn't have changed that. If Kylo Ren was suspicious--and FN-2187 could think of no other reason for having been summoned--he still lacked confirmation. How long before he found what he was looking for? How long before he summoned FN-2187 to an interrogation cell? Sent him for reconditioning?

Cradling his helmet in his lap, FN-2187 struggled for breath. He was officially out of time.

But he'd seen their plans, FN-2187 somehow catching a glimpse of Kylo Ren's thoughts, and there had to be something in them he could trade, something he could offer the Resistance in exchange for refuge.

 _Focus_ , he told himself, remembering then the training room, the man with the soft brown eyes. A dream, and yet he suspected now it was a memory, something they'd taken from him, something he'd recaptured by giving in to the impulse to surrender.

 _You can do this_ , he reminded himself, sinking a little further into the alcove so that he sat, back pressed against the wall, body hidden by the bulkhead, his helmet in his lap. FN-2187 closed his eyes.

It was easier this time, the combat deck appearing beneath him almost immediately, FN-2187 turning a slow circle as he took in the room. His earlier fear lingered, not as intense as before, but sharp enough to stutter in his chest. Releasing a breath, he turned to where he'd last seen Kylo Ren.

Even knowing he was safe inside the alcove--even knowing this was a memory--FB-2187 drew back. The sheer magnitude of Kylo Ren's power coursed around them, a counter beat to the dull thrumming of his heart. It took effort to meet his eyeless gaze, FN-2187 fighting the impulse to flee.

_Do you know why you're here?_

FN-2187 remembered this. Kylo Ren hadn't answered, though his thoughts were coloured by vivid images: a barren desert; sterile grey vaults; a dense jungle. FN-2187 frowned, wondering what they meant and why Kylo Ren had projected them. Was it some trick of the Force? Something he'd done to grant FN-2187 access to his thoughts? And if so, why? Was that the gift he'd spoken of? None of it made any sense, and he was getting sidetracked.

The intensity of Kylo Ren's scrutiny was too much, so FN-2187 left his body, floating above it to watch, disconnected, from the observation deck above. He hadn't realized he could do that, the act purely instinctual, though he supposed these were his memories--he could access them however he wanted. Still, it granted a new perspective, FN-2187 watching himself tremble beneath Kylo Ren's outstretched hand.

He looked... alien in his armour, though that didn't make any sense, his armour as much a part of him as his designation. And yet it was jarring to see himself as just another anonymous stormtrooper, caught beneath the intensity of Kylo Ren's gaze.

Kylo Ren, who didn't acknowledge stormtroopers, stood before him, the air practically shimmering with his power, his outstretched hand reaching for...

For what? Memories? You couldn't hide anything from a Force wielder--FN-2187 knew that unequivocally--and yet everything he'd heard suggested Kylo Ren could simply take what he wanted. That wasn't what he was witnessing, Kylo Ren's hand trembling, the strain as obvious as his fear.

FN-2187 had half a second to process that before Kylo Ren staggered back, his hand falling to his side. Unbidden, images flooded his mind: FN-3610's face floating above him in the darkness; a frozen forest, Kylo Ren's lightsaber bright against the new fallen snow; a battlefield littered with bodies, outstretched hand reaching towards him. _Finn_.

On the deck below, his counterpart drew back, as though Kylo Ren had delivered a blow.

_You do not know half the power you possess..._

He remembered this too, Kylo Ren's acknowledgement of his reconditioning as startling as it was alarming, but that wasn't what gave FN-2187 pause. Kylo Ren's thoughts once again invaded his mind. The combat deck gave way to the assembly hall--FN-2187 recognized it immediately--only in place of the podium where General Hux gave his speeches there was a towering throne, the being upon it shrouded in darkness, a jagged scar cutting into its features. This, FN-2187 knew, was Supreme Leader Snoke.

The image vanished, replaced by a barren battlefield, dozens of bodies littering the ground. Drenching rain poured from the sky, half obscuring a cluster of men, their bulky black cloaks identifying them as knights. Before them stood Kylo Ren, his lightsaber the only source of light.

FN-2187 retreated, the battlefield vanishing, becoming the bridge of a ship. General Hux stood at the helm, fervid excitement painted across his features, his gaze glassy with the promise of impending triumph. He stared at the hologram of a man, FN-2187 recognizing the clothes of a Resistance fighter.

 _Timing is crucial. Their shields must be lowered before we break orbit_ , General Hux was saying.

_You'll have time. General Organa's death will distract them for some time. You should have at least ten minutes before they scramble their x-wings._

_More than enough. Succeed in this and you will receive commendation. You perform a great service for the First Order._

The hologram nodded, FN-2187 committing the man's face to memory. He watched as the image began to unravel, General Hux and the bridge disappearing completely, FN-2187 left staring into the faceless mask of Kylo Ren. He took an involuntary step back, relieved when the combat deck dissolved, in its place the relative security of the alcove.

Shaken, FN-2187 tipped his head back against the wall and breathed.

 

//

He thought they might be approaching the end of the rainy season, the violent storms of the past two months now few and far between. The humidity was still there--it clung to him like a second skin, so thick he could scarcely breathe for it--but overhead the sun shone for the first time in weeks.

He still wasn't used to this, a lifetime spent in the careful climate control of a ship leaving him ill adapted to planetside weather. At least it wasn't Jakku, the only thing worse than dry heat and gritty sand, Starkiller's biting cold.

Bringing a hand to his brow, Finn wiped aside the beads of sweat threatening to fall and obscure his vision.

Not that there was much to see, the Resistance's training course sparse and open, about as far from a First Order simfield as you could get. In place of holograms there were cutouts; in place of infrastructure there were rocks and fallen trees. He saw the advantages, of course: there was something to be said for climbing vines instead of ropes, D'Qar's natural features far more challenging than even the most advanced First Order simulation. But fewer distractions also meant an easy run at the objective, Finn tempted to suggest a redesign.

Either way, it felt good, Finn's body cooperating with him in a way it hadn't in months. He'd missed this, he realized, running simulations about the only thing he'd ever enjoyed during his time in the First Order. It went beyond the need for physical activity, the push and pull of his muscles nice, but not what drove him. It was the anticipation of his next move, Finn thinking three, four steps ahead, tactics as important as the overall strategy.

The objective was simple--overly so, perhaps, but Finn could appreciate that too--hit the target and then make it back home. Back in the First Order the objective was endgame: reach it and the simulation ended. Here the return trip was endgame, the course not completed until you'd crossed the startline. Another stark difference, no one inside the First Order caring if a stormtrooper made it out alive.

Aiming his blaster at the target, Finn scrambled over a strategically placed log and then immediately ducked into a crouch, coming low under a set of strung wires as he fired. Objective achieved.

The way back was always easy, each of the cutouts he'd hit now out of commission. Any that were missed would pop up on the second run, but Finn didn't miss so that meant he had a clean run home. He arrived back at the start in record time, clearing the course rope two-minutes and eighteen-seconds faster than his previous best. Applause erupted from the stands.

A glance up showed Poe lounging on one of the observation benches, his legs stretched out before him, his body tilted to fully soak up the sun. His presence wasn't a surprise, but Finn still felt himself flush, warmth spreading throughout his chest.

"You here the entire time?" he asked, crossing the soggy ground to reach Poe's side.

"Missed your first three obstacles," Poe answered as he tossed Finn a dry towel. Finn used it to mop sweat from the back of his neck.

"Too bad, those were my best ones," he managed, earning a laugh. Warmth spread into his limbs.

This was... new. No, that wasn't the word, the warmth of Poe's companionship now a familiar constant. It was only Finn's comfort that was new, Finn seeking Poe out as often as Poe sought him, old restraints falling away, Finn no longer weighed down by his time in the First Order, the openness of companionship, friendship--whatever it was they had--now something he felt permitted to seek. Draping the towel around his neck, Finn came to sit at Poe's side.

"If what I saw wasn't your best then I think we can safely call you healed. Any word on when they might let you into the field?"

They talked about that sometimes: Finn's eagerness to get out into the field, his desire to do something useful for a change, to help the Resistance take on the First Order. Waiting for clearance was agony.

"Dr. Kalonia cleared me, so now it's up to General Organa."

He offered a shrug, the movement settling him a little more firmly into Poe's space. He was covered in sweat, probably stank, but Poe never complained, his lounge becoming a full sprawl, the two of them sitting, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, staring out over the now unoccupied training course.

"You know, there's a planning ops meeting this afternoon. I could put in a good word," Poe said. Finn glanced over, half expecting to meet Poe's eye. Instead Poe's gaze was locked on the horizon, contented expression plastered across his face.

"Thanks, but I've already scheduled a meeting. Figured I ought to put in a formal request."

He as good had her word, the General once asking him what he wanted to do, Finn telling her he wanted to work infantry, General Organa promising to arrange it once he had medical clearance. Between the physiotherapy, his training and Dr. Kalonia's pills he felt more than ready, which meant there was really only one thing he was putting off.

Clearing his throat, Finn straightened.

The movement was jarring enough it unsettled Poe, who must have been leaning more heavily against Finn than Finn had initially estimated. He tipped to the side, half sprawled against Finn's back, Finn barking a laugh even as he struggled to apologize.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, catching Poe around the shoulders and setting him upright. Poe shot him a wide grin.

"Warn a guy, will ya," he said, still smiling. Finn couldn't bring himself to look away.

Heat he knew had nothing to do with D'Qar's climate crept into his cheeks. Any other day he might have ducked his head, glanced away, but for the first time since Starkiller Finn felt whole--healed and strong and useful, no longer retreating at the first sign of red. It made him bold, Finn letting his gaze drop to Poe's lips, unsurprised when he found the bottom one drawn between Poe's teeth.

"I..." he said when he glanced back up, momentarily distracted by the slight widening of Poe's eyes, hesitation and uncertainty creeping in until Poe wrapped a hand around his arm, anchoring him in place.

He should probably say something, announce his intentions--all of this unfamiliar territory--but then Poe was stiffening, Finn's heart dropping, ugly knot forming in the pit of his stomach until he heard it too, the distant call of sirens screaming from inside the base.

"Of all the kriffing times," Poe said, half under his breath.

He shot Finn an apologetic look, one stained with promise and frustration, and then surged to his feet, Poe using the hand wrapped around Finn's arm to haul him up alongside.

"What is it?" Finn asked, already moving, the two of them crossing ground quickly on their way back to base.

"Let's hope it's a false alarm," Poe said, Finn ready to agree when he heard it, the sound unmistakable.

It resonated in his skull, loud enough to rattle his teeth, Finn wincing, half forgotten fear surging in his chest. His vision began to swim, Dr. Kalonia's tranquilizers strong enough to ward off flashing red lights, but not this. Glancing skyward, Finn confirmed his worst fear.

"Kriffing hell," Poe said beside him, his gaze locked on the approaching TIE.

"Go," Finn told him, half shoving Poe in the direction of the flight deck, where pilots were already scrambling into their x-wings. He didn't wait to see if Poe hesitated, already starting for the base, following the flurry of activity that led him straight to the Command Centre, General Organa waving him inside.

"Finn, thank the stars you're here. As far as we can tell it's just the one, but why..."

"It's a recon mission," Finn said. "My guess is they had a rough idea of where you were, enough to point Starkiller at a system anyway, but didn't know the exact planet. Now they do."

General Organa nodded. She glanced once to Admiral Ackbar before turning her attention back to Finn. Despite his run--despite his earlier training and his reaction to seeing the TIE--Finn felt better than he had in months, adrenaline all he apparently needed to slot things back into place.

"So what happens when that TIE reports back?"

Finn glanced at the display screen, Resistance x-wings taking to the sky. Black One's signature wasn't yet among them.

"The First Order will launch an attack."

They weren't ready. Finn knew that even without asking, their losses after Starkiller too many, General Organa's brother still in isolation, with him the only other person Finn thought capable of ending this war. He shook his head. On screen, Black One entered the fray.

"Don't let him jump. We lose that TIE they'll attack inside the hour. We shoot him down they'll hold out for a few, wait for its return. Either way, I don't think we can withstand a full scale attack."

Pilots were radioing in now, the TIE flying erratically--a defensive maneuver, Finn instructed, meant to evade enemy fire for as long as possible, the TIE gathering all the intel the First Order would need to launch an attack.

 _Form up on me_ , came Poe's voice over the comlink. _And for the love of stars don't let him break atmosphere._

General Organa caught Finn's gaze.

"We knew this was coming. We've got a contingency in place." She let her gaze drift then to Admiral Ackbar, a single nod apparently all the instruction he needed.

Over the comlink, Poe's pilots harried their prey. Finn turned his attention back to General Organa.

"As soon as they bring that TIE down, we're evacuating the base," she said, _base_ lost to the sound of pilots' cheers, the comlink alive with celebration.

 

XXIII.

"You did what?!"

Snoke was only a hologram, but Ren swore the walls trembled beneath his rage. He fought the instinct to cower, fists clenched as he stood his ground.

"While we sit idle, he grows increasingly powerful. He will not come to us on his own, he must be turned by force."

It was what they should have done from the start. His grandfather would have never permitted such a mistake.

"You would turn him by force?" Snoke asked, sounding amused. His image still trembled, the walls shrinking to accommodate his size. Ren hesitated.

"I... cannot," he admitted, feeling then the full scrutiny of Snoke's gaze. Ren bowed his head. Shame burned in his chest, white hot.

Silence stretched between them, so long it piqued Ren's curiosity. He glanced up, half expecting to find the room empty, Snoke gone. Instead he found Snoke staring in open shock, his features twisted with surprise. Ren recoiled.

"You... cannot?"

The words echoed around them, an endless reminder of his failure. Had he acted sooner--had he ignored Snoke's initial instructions--he might have succeeded. Now it was too late.

"He's too strong with the Force," Ren admitted.

"So was the girl," Snoke reminded him, Ren immediately shaking his head.

"The girl was untrained, but powerful. FN-2187 commands power beyond anything I am capable of, and though he's had no training, he instinctively knows how to use to Force. He didn't just resist me. He blocked me entirely."

The admission was enough to bring Snoke from his chair, hologram flickering, the assembly room nowhere near big enough to accommodate his projected size. Ren craned his neck, staring up at the space where Snoke's head should have been.

"I need your guidance, Master," he said, all but pleading.

He waited a breath, the hologram phasing in and out of focus before it stabilized, Snoke once again sat before him, his features now carefully blank.

"You will do nothing until I arrive. Do I make myself clear?"

It wasn't a question, Ren bound to obey, but still he hesitated. He'd gone behind Snoke's back, Ren knowing all too well the price of betrayal. Should Snoke succeed where Ren had failed, Ren's life would be forfeit, and yet...

"Yes, Master," he said, bowing his head. When he glanced up again, Snoke was gone, Ren left standing in the middle of the assembly room, alone.


	11. Chapter 11

XXIV.

Storms on Jakku came out of nowhere. They changed the landscape, sands shifting, burying old treasures, revealing new. Scavengers lived for a sandstorm; for the chance at a new discovery, something not yet picked over. Rey found a ship once. It wasn't something she cared to remember.

Storms on Ahch-To were different. They were milder for one, though Luke told her once that was their latitude. Further south, he said, was subject to near constant cyclones. Rey couldn't imagine. Here they got the occasional bit of rain, cold winds wiping across the island, so fast they barely touched its surface. On those days Rey liked to wrap herself in heavy cloaks and hide inside. No such luck today.

Today Luke had her balancing rocks, one on top of the other, all while levitating about a foot off the ground. It wasn't something she would have thought possible, but then she was learning possible and probable were two entirely different things, a Jedi's path an improbable one.

"You're not concentrating," Luke said when she wavered. He sat across from her, legs crossed one on top of the other, his hands steepled together in thought. Rey opened her eyes. The rock pile was lopsided, threatening collapse. Hastily she used the Force to right them.

"It's time," she said, without needing to specify. Luke offered a wane smile.

"We will contact them, when you have completed the exercise."

He nodded to the pile of rocks on her right, these haphazardly stacked, Rey meant to float each into her neatly stacked columns, a process that would take hours at the rate she was going. There had to be an easier way.

Perhaps she could try two at a time, Rey thought, straining to reach the Force. Sweat pearled against her forehead, her vision growing hazy, but she managed it, two rocks floating right to left, joining her now towering columns.

Another two, and then two more, and still the rock pile remained. She'd seen Luke do this was dozens--moving the entire pile into twin columns almost simultaneously. Rey narrowed her focus.

She could feel them, their weight seemingly insurmountable. They lifted as one, a single unit made of many parts, so heavy Rey was dragged to the side, the world temporarily off balance. It upset her equilibrium enough to start her flailing, Rey eventually losing her balance. Both she and her rocks tumbled to the ground, her columns collapsing a second later. When she opened her eyes she was sprawled amidst the destruction, Luke Skywalker fighting a smile.

"I'll start again," Rey said, though she was already drained, rock balancing an exhausting exercise.

"Tomorrow," Luke said, breaking the last of her concentration. Rey caught his gaze, her expression hopeful.

"Now?" she asked. Luke gave a brief nod.

"Now," he said.

Rey didn't need to be told twice. She jumped to her feet, the sound of Luke's laughter following her into the ruined temple.

 

XXV.

It shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. He'd just assumed Leia's quarters would reflect her stature, Poe expecting grandeur if not outright opulence. That was how it worked in the Republic, anyway, the further you were up the chain the better your living space.

Leia's quarters, however, were no bigger than his own, her bed the same standardized bunk found throughout the base. Only her linens were nicer: soft and plush and white, the surface of her bunk practically a cocoon. Leia caught him looking and smiled.

"I get cold at night. It's an age thing," she told him.

She stepped aside then, gesturing him fully into the room. General Ackbar already occupied a spot on the couch, so Poe claimed a seat on his right. Leia bolted the door, and then came to sit on his other side. She nodded once in Poe's direction, leaving Poe to activate the holo-projector that sat on her coffee table. Almost immediately the wane blue image of Luke Skywalker appeared before them.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Leia said.

This wasn't the first communication he'd sat in on, but the sight of Luke Skywalker, legendary Jedi, still caught in his throat. Poe sat a little straighter.

"Something's happened," Skywalker said the second he caught Leia's expression, sounding every inch a Jedi Master. He took them in, each in turn, his gaze lingering, it seemed, on Poe. Poe offered a faint smile, and then immediately regretted it. What kind of an idiot smiled at a Jedi Knight?

"We now have confirmation," Leia began, Skywalker's attention sliding back to her, "that the First Order has infiltrated the Resistance. There is at least one operative on base. We still don't know their identity."

Skywalker's gaze was directed at his sister, but Poe still ducked his head, faint blush spreading across his cheeks. He knew, logically, this wasn't his fault, but Leia had tasked him with finding the operative months ago and he'd failed, his desire to find Finn outweighing his need for security.

Floating a foot above Leia's coffee table, Skywalker's hologram lifted a hand as if to wave aside the concern.

"We have slightly more pressing concerns," he said.

For the longest time he merely stood there, framed by rock and ruined temple, ethereal blue cloak fluttering in the wind. Poe glanced once to Leia, but if she knew the cause of Skywalker's stillness she didn't reveal it, her expression carefully blank. None of this was helping them find Finn, or making up for Poe's distraction.

"Perhaps we ought..." Admiral Ackbar began, clearly sharing Poe's frustration. Leia shook her head. When she answered, she spoke directly to her brother.

"I know now he has passed well beyond my reach. Please don't think you have to spare me this," she told him.

Skywalker nodded.

"I fear my time here is coming to an end," he said, holding up a hand when it looked as though Leia might interject. "And you and I both know my path lies elsewhere, but there is something else."

He paused again, glancing this time over his shoulder, to where Poe could easily imagine Rey sat waiting. He'd met her maybe twice, though never officially, but he'd spoken to her over the holo-projector enough to call her features to mind. Skywalker, on the other hand, seemed ever changing, the man who turned back seeming older than before.

"There has been a disturbance in the Force," he said. "I can't yet tell if it's for good or ill, but I've felt it, Leia. It worries me."

"I've felt it too," Leia said, without elaborating. Poe felt a little like he was eavesdropping on half a conversation. His only consolation was that Admiral Ackbar seemed equally confused--he glanced from Leia to Skywalker and then back again, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. Poe pressed a palm against his knee to keep from fidgeting.

"If I may interject, Master Jedi," the Admiral eventually said, "may I inquire as to whether we are any closer to finding the First Order's flagship?"

Finally, something Poe could understand. In his excitement, he surged forward.

"Finn's there," he blurted before he could stop himself. Political finesse wasn't exactly his strong suit, but he was usually better at holding his cards. Skywalker's gaze slid in his direction.

"You've found Finn," he said, sounding oddly vested. Poe hesitated and then thought better of it, offering only a simple nod. Skywalker glanced once over his shoulder.

Almost immediately the hologram shifted, Skywalker seemingly pushed from view, in his place the fierce gaze of the girl he recognized as Rey.

"You've found him?" she said, her gaze locking on Poe. Poe shook his head.

"We know he's on the same ship as General Hux and Kylo Ren. We still don't know where that ship is."

Facial expressions weren't the easiest to catch across a holo-projection, but Poe didn't miss the way Rey's eyes lit up, her image vibrating with what Poe could only assume was barely concealed excitement.

"I can find him," she said, sound so utterly certain Poe's breath caught.

"Are you sure? You said..."

"I know what I said, and maybe I couldn't find Finn alone, but if he's with Kylo Ren then I can find him."

Poe wanted to ask what the difference was, but he suspected it involved the Force, something Poe didn't particularly want to think about, let alone question, so instead he bit his tongue.

"How can I help," he said instead, because while up until now he'd imagined being the one to ride to Finn's rescue, at this point he was more than willing to concede the task to Rey.

"Actually," Rey said, sounding every inch the Jedi she was destined to become, "I could use a pilot."

Not much surprised him, at least, not anymore, but her request did, Poe under the impression she was a skilled pilot in her own right. Still, if piloting her ship got him to Finn Poe wasn't about to complain.

"When do we leave?" he asked, only then realizing he'd commandeered both the conversation and Leia's decision. He glanced briefly in her direction, but found only fond amusement. Leia offered him a brief nod. Poe took it as tactile permission. Weight he'd been carrying for far too long dislodged from his chest.

"I'll come to you. It won't be more than a day. We'll need a plan for getting onto the ship unobserved, though. Can you handle that part?" Rey asked.

Sitting a little straighter, Poe nodded. 

"We've got it covered. You find us that ship we'll get Finn off it."

He'd come to this meeting fully prepared for defeat--another dead-end in a series of dead-ends--so Poe wasn't entirely sure how to process the prospect for success. He knew there was still room for failure, but he trusted Rey. He had no idea why, the girl--outside what he'd heard from Finn--practically a stranger, but he trusted her, Poe utterly certain she meant what she said.

She could find Ren's ship, and on it they'd find Finn, and after months--months--of searching, Poe could finally bring him home.

For the first time in a really long time, Poe permitted himself a small smile. Projected over Leia's coffee table, Rey returned the gesture.

 

~*~

_Leia inviting him was more a formality than anything. Apparently she wasn't kidding when she said she'd direct all of her resources towards bringing Finn home. He just hadn't expected those resources to include her Jedi brother._

_He'd seen holographs of course--had heard enough of his mother's stories to have a feel for the man--but seeing him up close, a live projection instead of a still image... There weren't words._

_He felt conspicuous, Poe seated near the back of the room, the Command Centre filled with people, most of them high ranking. He doubted Skywalker even knew he was there, and yet Poe felt as though he was the only person in the room, all of Skywalker's attention focused in his direction. Poe shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He ran a hand through his hair._

_"They're trying to draw you out," Leia was saying, midway through recounting Jessika and Iolo's encounter with the TIEs._

_"They think Rey rash enough to attempt a rescue," Skywalker said. If Poe didn't know any better, he'd swear the comment was directed at him. He sank a little further into his seat._

_"And by capturing her they mean to force your hand," Leia finished._

_It was strange watching them, they way they finished each other's thoughts. Poe knew they were siblings--twins--but he hadn't yet considered what that meant. Watching them now, Poe knew he was seeing more than a fraternal bond. This was the Force, the two of them alive with it, their connection far deeper than blood._

_"It's not the first time Snoke's tried to force my hand, nor will it be the last, though I am sorry it has cost you someone."_

_This time he did glance in Poe's direction, Poe momentarily startled by his awareness, though he told himself firmly it was a trick of the light. Leia appeared not to notice._

_"Have you had any luck finding Ben?" she asked. Skywalker shook his head._

_"Snoke is blocking me. I can't find your soldier either. Leia, I'm sorry."_

_He seemed genuinely remorseful, though Poe suspected he was missing half their conversation._

_If it continued, it did so in silence, Leia staring at her brother, her brother's gaze never wavering. It went on for so long Poe wondered if he ought to leave, to clear the room, the matter now one for family. He went so far as to stand, Poe halfway from his chair when Skywalker laughed._

_"I have someone here who wants to talk to someone there," he said. The holo-projection shimmered, Skywalker stepping aside, a young woman taking his place._

_He remembered her briefly from the flight deck, and then again from the Command Centre, Rey there when they found the map. Still, he felt like he knew her, half of Finn's stories involving Rey, Rey a central figure in Finn's life. Poe swallowed, surprised by a sudden wave of despondency._

_"General," she said, meeting Leia's gaze._

_"It's good to see you, Rey," Leia said._

_"It's good to see you as well, though if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to speak in private with Poe Dameron."_

_Her gaze never wavered, but Poe swore he could feel her eyes, the weight of her scrutiny as bad as any Jedi. He stood and took a tentative step forward._

_"You can have ten minutes, and I then I need to speak with my brother in private," Leia answered, already ushering people from the room._

_Inside of a minute the room was cleared, Poe left standing before the holo-projector, Rey's image dancing before him._

_"I can feel him," she said. No formalities, no introductions, just direct bluntness Poe associated with Finn. Poe surged forward._

_"Where?" he all but demanded._

_Rey shook her head. The image blurred and then sharpened, her expression now apologetic._

_"It's not like that. I can't pinpoint a location, but I can feel him."_

_"Where?" Poe pressed, because what good was her telling him this if she didn't know where._

_Rey's expression fell._

_"I'm so sorry, Poe. I wish... If I knew where he was I'd tell you. I know you were close."_

_The admission came as a surprise, Poe rendered temporarily speechless. He hadn't spoken to Rey, not before now, but Finn had, which meant..._

_"What do you mean?" he still asked._

_Rey didn't answer right away, her expression growing distant. Poe bit his lip to keep from screaming, the entire situation beyond frustrating. She knew something, and yet..._

_"He talked about you, constantly," Rey said, seemingly out of the blue. Poe frowned. "I mean, he didn't outright say it, but I got the impression you and he were..."_

_That stopped Poe short, because, yeah, there were times when he was damned certain that was exactly where they were heading, but to hear it from someone else... To hear it from Rey..._

_"I guess I just wanted you to know that he's alive. They've... They've done something to him... I don't know what, but he's alive."_

_It should have comforted him. It hadn't occur to him before now to think otherwise, and yet, hearing Rey's confirmation brought tremendous relief. That didn't stop him from focusing on the second part of her statement._

_"What do you mean done something to him?" he asked, niggling thought telling him he already had the answer._

_They'd talked about this sometimes, Finn terrified they'd come back for him. "Kill me before you let them take me," he once said, Poe horrified by the notion, but Finn was resolute, death preferable to the prospect of being returned to their ranks._

_How had he failed Finn so spectacularly?_

_"It's called reconditioning," he heard himself say. "Kriff. Finn told me about it. It... I don't know. Wipes their memories? Makes them think they're part of the First Order. Is that what you mean?"_

_He ought to be terrified, but if they'd reconditioned him, if they'd made him into a stormtrooper again, that meant he was safe. It meant they had time._

_"I don't know. I'm sorry. I can't actually touch his mind. It's more like... I'm aware of him, but there's something different... I'm sorry, I wish I understood this. I just thought you'd like to know."_

_He did, he realized, Poe offering a faint smile as an expression of his gratitude. Rey returned it, silence stretching between them until Poe realized they were nearing their ten minutes. He cleared his throat._

_"I can go get General Organa," he said, moving then to stand. Rey stopped him with an outstretched hand._

_"Finn called you a hero. He said you'd saved him, the last time I mean. And when I was with BB-8, all they could talk about was how great you were, so... I guess I'm trying to say that if anyone can find Finn and bring him home, it's you. May the Force be with you, Poe Dameron."_

_He wanted to object, to tell her he wasn't a hero, that Finn had saved him, but by the time the lump in his throat cleared she was gone, Poe left staring at the eerie backdrop of Ahch-To._

_"May the Force be with all of us," he said to the empty air. Poe exhaled sharply and then stood and went in search of General Organa._


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been very bad at replying to comments, but I wanted to take a moment to say thank you, to everyone following this story, and for all your kind words. They are beyond encouraging. I appreciate them beyond measure.

//

"You should be on a shuttle," General Organa said, her words shouted over the roar of a departing transport.

Finn glanced over briefly, and then turned back to his datareader.

"I've made arrangements to fly out with this run," he said.

Any other day he would have stood to attention, but the base's inventory count was nowhere near accurate, and even if it was they still didn't have enough room for it all. Keeping track of what went with them was an arduous task. Finn took it very seriously.

"You know," General Organa plucked the datareader from his hand, "when I asked if you minded overseeing the supply transfer, I wasn't asking you to redesign our logistics system."

She made a cursory show of examining his inventory list, and then handed the reader back. Finn checked off two crates of medical supplies, and then gave the shuttle pilot permission to lug them aboard.

"You don't have a logistics system. That's the problem."

He kept the comment light, but even so, the First Order they would have seen it as insubordination. General Organa merely laughed.

"Well, I appreciate the effort, and when you're not training with your new regiment, you are more than welcome to help us create one when we get where we're going. The operative word there being when."

She meant it as a gentle reminder that they ought to leave, the last of the shuttles being loaded, D'Qar practically a ghost town. Finn knew that, and yet he was stuck on the first part of her comment, _regiment_ echoing in his head.

"You're clearing me for duty?" he said, this time tearing his gaze from the screen. General Organa shook her head. Across the tarmac, another shuttle rose into the air.

"Actually, I'm giving you a regiment to train and command. Think you're up for the task?"

Finn stood a little straighter, a swell of pride bursting in his chest.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, the words barely out when some of his excitement dimmed. "This isn't because..."

Overhead, the shuttle cleared atmosphere. Finn thought briefly of Poe, hovering above the planet, waiting to escort the shuttles through hyperspace.

"No, Finn. I don't do favours. I'm assigning you this because I think you're capable, and because you know the First Order better than anyone. I need someone with that kind of knowledge on the ground, and I'd rather you have a regiment to back you up."

He heard what she wasn't saying, Finn fully prepared to go into harm's way if that's what the Resistance needed.

"I won't let you down," he promised.

"Good, then I suggest you leave this and get on your shuttle." She glanced briefly to the sky, Finn following her gaze. "I think we've run out of time."

There was no sign of the First Order, but that didn't mean anything: Finn knew how fast they could mobilize, an empty sky false security at best.

"I'd suggest you do the same," he said, waiting only for her nod before he grabbed one of the few remaining crates and carried it bodily onto the shuttle. They had room, he thought, for three more. When he returned for a second, General Organa was nowhere in sight.

Three crates turned into four, and then five before Finn remembered they had to watch their weight if they wanted to reach escape velocity. He hated leaving supplies behind, but they had the important stuff, so when the pilot asked him if he wanted to load anything else, Finn declined.

It felt strange, leaving the only place outside of the First Order that had ever felt like home. Climbing onto the shuttle, Finn couldn't bring himself to look back. He kept his gaze on the ship, refusing to look out the viewport until they were well into the air, the base an insignificant dot, D'Qar little more than a faint green ball hanging in open space.

His pilot, a long-haul freighter pilot named Hoc who'd served in the Republic before joining the Resistance, brought them deftly through D'Qar's rocky rings and then out into open space, where an x-wing sat waiting to take them through hyperspace. It wasn't Poe's.

"I've been instructed to ask: is Finn on board?" a familiar voice came over the comlink. Finn smiled. He reached immediately for the controls, and then thought better of it, Finn used to Poe, who didn't particularly seem to care what Finn did inside his ship so long as he didn't break it. The man transporting him to Secor II was practically a stranger.

"Go ahead, answer the lady," Hoc said. Finn offered a smile before reaching for the comms.

"Tell Poe he worries too much, and that I'm fine," Finn said. Jessika's laugh carried over the comlink.

"Oh, good. He was starting to get antsy. He wanted me to relay a message."

She paused then, Finn well aware they had an audience. He gestured to the private headset, Hoc granting his permission with a single nod. Finn donned it and then, after some consideration, retreated to the rear of the ship. By the time he was strapped in and seated, his cheeks felt uncomfortably warm.

"He couldn't have waited until we got settled?" Finn asked. A glance out the stern viewport suggested they were fast approaching their jump point.

"I'm going to pretend I have some idea of what you're talking about, and say no, no he couldn't."

Finn frowned.

"So what's the message?"

He was beginning to suspect he could spend the next twenty years inside the Resistance and never once fully understand the intricacies of their social interactions. If he had to give the First Order credit for anything, it was that they'd made communication a relatively simple affair, every word precise and efficient.

"He said, and I quote: Pick us out a good room. End quote."

It took Finn several seconds to process that, his barked laugh startlingly loud inside the confines of the shuttle.

"I'll see what I can do," he told Jessika, hearing again the echo of her laugh.

He severed the connection then, but remained where he was, still smiling as he hung the headset around his neck. From the front of the shuttle he could hear Jessika chatting with Hoc, giving final instructions for the jump.

And then they were away, hyperspace appearing around them, Finn counting down the hours; wondering just what Poe considered a _good_ room.

\\\

 

XXVI.

The others fell asleep in steady increments. FN-2187 remained motionless in his bunk, listening to the steady in and out of their breathing, waiting until the last of his unit succumbed to sleep.

And then continued to wait, the chronometer on the far wall counting down the hours--six until their sleep cycle ended; another twelve minutes before someone initiated the first of three spot checks.

How long would he have before someone came looking for him?

It didn't matter, he decided, this his only window, FN-2187 well aware this was a one way trip. Once he started there was no turning back. If someone caught him... If Kylo Ren came for him... If the Resistance didn't want what he had... If they weren't fast enough...

A thousand ways this could go wrong.

But what was his life weighed against thousands? Tens of thousands. He'd heard their plans; knew the First Order's intentions. They would attack the Resistance's base, destroying the only thing that stood between them and universal domination. FN-2187 was beginning to understand that he couldn't allow that to happen. This was no longer just about getting away. It was about doing the right thing, and warning the Resistance was the right thing, of that FN-2187 was certain.

Which meant he had to go through with it. He had to, somehow, get into the communications relay and transmit his message. He needed to tell them about the informant and the First Order's invasion plans. Even if that meant getting caught. Even if that meant losing his way off the ship. The righteousness of it burned in his chest, FN-2187 taken aback by its intensity; shocked by its familiarity.

Shaken, FN-2187 closed his eyes.

When he opened them, eight minutes had passed, FN-2187 exhaling slowly as he prepared for what was to come. All of his plans. His desire to escape the First Order, to reclaim what he'd lost... Was he really going to throw all of that away to save strangers? Yes, someone answered. FN-2187 suspected the thought was his own, or at least that of the man he sometimes thought he was. The man they'd taken from him when they'd stolen his memories. The man he was once again determined to become. That man, he thought, was worth dying for.

Unbidden, warm brown eyes filled his vision, FN-2187 experiencing an unexpected surge of relief. He couldn't explain it, but he was certain--utterly certain--he was saving this man. That, too, he thought, might be worth dying for.

Another minute. Again FN-2187 closed his eyes.

Spot checks rarely lasted long. FN-2187 heard the door slide open. He felt the bored scrutiny of the stormtrooper in charge of barrack checks. He lay motionless beneath the harsh glare of too-white light. 

And then the stormtrooper was gone. FN-2187 counted slowly back from one hundred, and opened his eyes.

He'd rehearsed this in his mind at least a dozen times, FN-2187 slipping quietly from his bunk and then into his armour, his breath held as he listened for impending discovery.

It didn't come, the others conditioned for deep sleep. FN-2187 released a ragged breath, and then disappeared beneath his helmet. This was it. The point of no return. He could do this.

Without the benefit of his HUD display--disabled to keep the First Order from tracking him--FN-2187 had to rely on memory to navigate the Penalizer's sprawling corridors. He'd prepared for this too, memorizing schematics. When he finally started moving, it was steadily, his pace clipped but purposeful.

He'd planned for panic, too, FN-2187 mustering his courage against anticipated trepidation, but it never came. Instead there was only steady calm, as though something guided him, his actions no longer his own. Twice he avoided sentries. Once an entire contingent of officers. No one glanced in his direction. No one thought to question why a lone stormtrooper, whose HUB signature would read as an error--wandered the halls unescorted. Within ten minutes he'd reached his destination, the threat of discovery now a distant worry, FN-2187 focused entirely on getting past the sentry guards.

But even this was easy, FN-2187 trusting entirely to instinct, the blaster on his hip untouched as he came into the first junction, where two stormtroopers blocked his path. Neither glanced in his direction.

"General Hux wants all hands in the assembly hall immediately," he heard himself say, the calmness of his words belying the frantic beating of his heart.

The two guards--and he couldn't tell their unit without his HUD--glanced briefly in his direction.

"We will go to the assembly hall," one of the guards said, and then, to FN-2187's complete and utter astonishment, the pair immediately put up arms and retreated the way FN-2187 had come.

FN-2187 stood inside the junction, staring at the space they'd occupied for a long, endless minute before remembering there were two more, these stationed outside the relay room doors, neither having noticed his arrival.

Another oddity, but FN-2187 was well beyond questioning oddities. Whatever was happening--whatever he'd done--his objective was now within reach. The world pulsed around him, a chaotic storm of light and sound, and yet he was blanketed by calm, his steps focused and determined, this no different from a training simulation.

Within a minute, he'd reached the other troopers. One of them startled with surprise. The other remained frozen in place. FN-2187 thought perhaps he might be asleep.

"You're not supposed to be here," the first trooper said. His voice was vaguely familiar. One of the DTs, FN-2187 thought.

"General Hux wants all hands in the assembly hall immediately," he said again, this time hearing his hesitancy. The stormtrooper remained unmoved.

"What for?" he asked.

"I don't know," FN-2187 said, no longer in control of his body. It was as though someone else had taken over, words spilling from his lips without his permission. "I was just told to round up the stragglers. I guess something big is happening. We're to report to the assembly hall."

The words came easily now, firm and authoritative, the stormtrooper straightening beneath them.

"Man, they never tell us anything," he said, but he started moving, clapping his partner on the shoulder before starting down the hall. FN-2187 stood, stock-still, trying very hard not to breathe.

"You coming?" the stormtrooper asked him after his partner started moving. FN-2187 shook his head.

"I'm going to sweep this section, make sure we haven't missed anyone."

That earned him a nod, the troopers moving down the hall and then vanishing around the corner, FN-2187 left alone outside the relay room doors.

What the hell had just happened?

It didn't matter, he decided, his time even more limited, and besides, he wasn't about to look a gift-droid in the memory banks. Moving to the door, FN-2187 keyed in his clearance code. Even expecting it, he sagged with relief when it opened.

It struck him then, the door sealing behind him, FN-2187 staring at relay terminal, that this was really happening. He was really doing this. He'd thought about, and considered it, and planned for it, but nothing had prepared him for actually succeeding. Until he'd made the decision to act all of this was little more than a vague notion, something he could have never envisioned himself imagining.

And yet, despite that, this felt right, everything clicking into place, FN-2187 feeling more like himself than he could ever remember feeling. A preposterous thought, he knew, and yet for the first time in his life he actually felt comfortable in his skin. Staring down at the terminal interface, FN-2187 knew exactly what to do.

He shouldn't have. There was no possible way he should have known communication coordinates for the Resistance, and yet as soon as he saw the keypad he knew them. He also shouldn't have known how to mask the signal, not without considerable effort, and yet he did, his hands flying over the keys. He operated in a daze, his body no longer his own, his actions dictated entirely by instinct.

Even without consciously thinking it he knew immediately this was one of the things they had taken from him.

Even knowing that--even feeling it--he didn't expect this to work. Logic dictated failure, and yet the signal went through, FN-2187 having enough time to pull his helmet from his head and set it on the floor before the comlink activated, a voice on the other end demanding to know his name.

 

XXVII.

The Millennium Falcon was difficult to pilot without a co-pilot, but not impossible, Rey relishing the challenge. For all of Skywalker's exercises, for all the times she'd lost herself to meditation, not once had she felt as close to the Force as she did now, the Falcon thrumming beneath her, the universe collapsing into a single point, Rey's awareness reaching everywhere.

She could still feel Finn, stronger now that before, and yet she turned away from his point in space, her destination set, Rey well aware she needed more than just determination.

If Skywalker had taught her anything, it was the importance of relying on others.

Experience had taught her otherwise, but if she trusted anyone she trusted Finn, Poe someone he spoke highly of, someone she knew instinctively would see this through to the end. Setting the coordinates for the Resistance's new base, Rey initiated the jump.

"Now we wait," she told her empty co-pilot's chair, Rey wishing then Chewbacca had agreed to stay. Finn, she thought, would have liked to have seen him again.

It felt strange, thinking about seeing him again. She'd spent so long worrying over him, aching to find a way to help him and yet now that she had set out all of her worry had vanished. There was only a growing certainty: that she would find him; that she would bring him home.

She'd told him once, long before any of this ever happened, that they'd see each other again, and she'd meant that--felt it in her bones. This, she knew, was fulfillment of that promise, Rey utterly assured of their success. It made travelling through hyperspace a little easier, Rey crossing her legs, closing her eyes and allowing her consciousness to drift, Finn's point in space almost within her reach.

#

She emerged from hyperspace above a dark planet, Secor II framed by its solitary sun. She was arriving, she realized, in the dead of the Resistance base's night, Rey half afraid she'd be forced to wait for landing coordinates.

Her comlink, however, activated almost immediately, Rey relaying her identification before the link went silent, a set of coordinates merging into her autopilot. Rey smiled, and then brought the Falcon down onto a narrow landing strip, well away from the main base. A handful of people were gathered on the ground.

She recognized General Organa the second the ramp was lowered, Rey feeling strangely awkward. How must it have looked, her emerging from the ship that once belonged to General Organa's dead husband. A ship, she suspected, that once housed General Organa's son.

Climbing down to meet her welcoming party, Rey couldn't bring herself to meet the General's gaze.

"We can leave immediately, if you like," she said, directing the comment at Poe, who stood at Leia's right, taller than Rey remembered, but more real than she ever imagined. Her gaze drifted to the droid at his side, BB-8 near quivering with excitement.

"Hi, Beebee-Ate," she said.

It broke the silence, BB-8 chirping loudly at her. They practically knocked Poe to the ground in their bid to reach her side, Rey crouching down to greet them.

"I missed you too," she said.

No one had moved, and when Rey glanced up she found Poe still rooted at General Organa's side. Both of them were smiling.

"Is there a problem?" Rey asked.

Poe's smile shifted into a grin. He ducked his head, lips pressing together to keep, she thought, from laughing. Rey forced herself to meet General Organa's eye.

"While I do appreciate your enthusiasm, I would think we should probably go over the plan first, wouldn't you agree?"

She didn't wait for a reply, turning and gesturing the others towards the base. Poe lingered behind.

"She likes to debrief first. You'll get used to it." He glanced briefly to the Falcon, his expression growing serious. "If it were me, I'd leave this instant, but..."

"Yeah," Rey said. She didn't know Leia Organa well, but she knew her brother, patience, she suspected, something they had in common.

It soon became apparent they'd had her land on the far side of the base, out of sight from the main flight deck. Rey arched an eyebrow, getting another laugh for her effort. It sounded strained.

"We're trying to keep your arrival under wraps," Poe said just as they reached the others, General Organa stopped outside a door that seemed cut into the earth. Poe stepped forward to enter a code. The door swung open. He gestured her inside.

"It's a service tunnel. Leads to the Command Centre. More importantly, it's not monitored."

"And I thought Luke was paranoid," Rey said, but she ducked into the tunnel, following behind BB-8 as they careened ahead, soft light spilling from their front lens.

Despite the remoteness of her landing site, the service tunnel proved relatively short. At the far end another door required another security clearance, General Organa keyed in this one, the door sliding open, Rey getting her first look at Secor II's Command Centre.

It looked a lot like D'Qar's Command Centre, if she was honest, but then this was only the second base she'd had the honour of touring, so it was entirely possible all Resistance bases looked the same. Restraining herself to keep from staring with wide-eyed wonder, Rey followed General Organa into the room.

And immediately came to a stop, the atmosphere ripe with tension. There were only a handful of people in the room--Rey thought back to Poe's comment, wondering if these were the people General Organa had decided to trust--and yet each seemed frozen in place, the hush as loud as any shout, Rey wincing beneath its enormity.

"Report," General Organa said, coming immediately to attention. A woman behind some sort of terminal raised a finger in the air. General Organa fell silent.

"I'm sorry, can you say again," the woman said. Rey realized she was speaking into a communications terminal.

"I said," came the response, the words echoing around the room. Rey recognized the speaker immediately. "My name is FN-2187, and I need to speak with your General."


	13. Chapter 13

XXVIII.

He could still hear his voice, the echo of it lingering in his head, Poe turning sometimes, expecting to find Finn coming down the hall or jogging across the flight deck. They weren't hallucinations--nothing he needed to share with Dr. Kalonia--just wishful thinking, Poe suspended between reality and what should have been.

He assumed, for a moment, that was what was happening here.

Except, no one moved, the room frozen in place, expressions of shock maring more than one set of features. Poe lurched forward.

Not as fast as he would have liked. Time seemed to have come to a standstill, the seconds playing out in slow motion. He couldn't get his feet to cooperate--in his head he was screaming at them, but they moved as though caught in Jabiim mud, each step slow and lurching.

Faintly, he heard the technician's response, her words shattering against his skull, Poe desperate to cut them short.

"How did you get these coordinates," she said. "This is a secure channel."

He reached her side before Finn could answer, Poe gesturing wildly for her headset. The technician balked, but a single nod from Leia changed her mind. Still, she removed them slowly, Poe practically snatching them from her hands.

Later, when this was over, when his heart no longer beat frantically in his chest, he'd remember to apologize. For now there was only Finn.

"Finn? Finn, are you still there?" Poe said into the comlink.

There was so much more he wanted to say. He wanted to know if Finn was okay. He wanted to know where Finn was. He wanted to reassure Finn they were coming for him. But this wasn't the time or place, Finn's safety paramount, however he'd managed this not something Poe was going to screw up just because Poe needed reassurance.

The room was still frozen in place, Poe vaguely aware he was holding his breath. His hands were trembling, so he pressed them into the console, Poe close to frantic by the time Finn replied.

"Look, I don't have much time and I need you to listen. My name is FN-2187. I'm a stormtrooper on board the Penalizer. And I need to speak with your General. The matter is urgent."

The relief of hearing Finn's voice--of finally having undeniable proof that Finn was alive--was enough to buckle his knees. Poe smiled, a wide, stupid grin that stung his cheeks and crinkled his eyes.

"Okay, we can do that, but first I need to know where you are," he said, not bothering to mask his desperation.

Across the room, people were beginning to move, Leia their conductor. She ushered several out of the room, while others she assigned to terminals, Poe vaguely aware they were trying to trace Finn's location. Rey had come to stand at his right, her head cocked, her gaze piercing. After a moment, Leia joined her, the two of them staring with intense scrutiny.

Another lag, longer this time--if he had to guess he'd say Finn was at least half a galaxy away, the latency too long for anything less. Poe swallowed against the urge to scream.

"I just told you where I was," Finn finally said, his voice tight with frustration. Any other circumstances Poe might have laughed. "I'm on board the Penalizer. I'm a stormtrooper with the First Order, and I need to speak with General Organa immediately."

Exasperation bled into his words. Poe could almost picture it, the slight scowl Finn wore whenever he grew frustrated. It made an appearance often in the months following Starkiller, Finn's physiotherapy progressing slower than he would have liked. The memory caught in Poe's chest, heavy against the dull thudding of his heart. 

"General Organa is here. She's listening. Just tell us where you are so that we can come and get you."

He had to know. He had to at least have a system, something more precise than Rey's vague feeling. The sooner they got to him the sooner they could get him out, Poe confident they could do it if only they had a starting point.

"...You'll come get me? But I haven't even told you anything. Look, I really think I need to speak to the General."

Poe chastised himself. Of course Finn didn't know. What was it Finn had said? A blank slate can be made to remember anything; to forget everything. Poe had known. He'd brace himself for exactly this scenario, and yet nothing could have prepared him for Finn not knowing who he was; for Finn calling himself a stormtrooper.

He wanted to answer, to reassure Finn that, yes, he could speak to Leia, but please, for the love of Stars just tell them where he was. He got as far as opening his mouth when Leia stopped him, firm hand cradling his elbow. Poe knew immediately what she wanted.

He hated the thought of losing the connection, Poe desperate to make Finn understand, but Leia was right: it wasn't up to him to dictate Finn's terms. Hands still shaking, Poe handed over the headset.

"FN-2187, this is General Leia Organa. Can you tell us your location?" Leia said, her voice carrying around the room. Poe held his breath, counting the seconds as he waited for Finn's reply.

The pause was longer this time, beyond just the signal's latency. Poe glanced briefly to the technicians who were attempting to trace the signal, but neither had glanced up from their terminals, pinpointing something's origins through subspace not exactly an easy task. _Come on_ , he thought, feeling then as adrift as he had in the weeks following Finn's disappearance.

"Why do you keep asking my location? I'm trying to warn you. The First Order has infiltrated your base. They know where you are. They're planning an attack, I..."

He trailed off, not the signal, Poe thought, but rather frustration. Poe understood completely. This was getting them nowhere. Understanding then what he needed to do, Poe gestured for the headset. Leia surprised him by handing it over.

"Fi..." Poe caught himself. "FN-2187, my name is Commander Dameron, and I'm speaking on behalf of General Organa. What you are doing is very brave, and we will accept any information you can give us. But we can also get you out. We have technicians working to trace this signal, but it's going to take some time."

 _Please_ , he didn't say, though he thought it, hard enough he suspected for Leia to hear, her expression growing soft.

"Just like that? You'll get me out?" came Finn's eventual reply. He sounded incredulous, but also very, very hopeful.

"I will come and get you personally," Poe said, more solemnly than perhaps he intended.

The lag this time was brief.

"I don't... I don't have too many details, and I can't really explain how I know... But I saw General Hux speaking to a hologram, someone from your base. They were talking about an impending attack. I'm sorry, I don't know when, but the man--I don't know his name--he was going to assassinate General Organa. In the aftermath, the First Order intended to launch an attack."

The words came out in a rush, Finn sounding breathless by the time he'd finished. Poe glanced briefly to Leia, the information confirmation if nothing else. She nodded.

"This man... Did you see his face? Can you describe him?"

It wasn't what he wanted to ask, Poe still desperate for Finn's location, but if Finn knew the informant, or at least had a description, they needed to know, the security of the Resistance paramount.

"He was large. Not tall, but broad shouldered, and very pale. His hair was dark, cropped short but long enough that it stuck up a bit on the top. He sounded like he was from an inner rim planet... I'm sorry I don't..."

"No, no, this is good," Poe said, already drawing a picture in his mind. A quick glance to Leia confirmed his suspicion. There weren't too many people on base who matched that description. There certainly weren't many from the inner rim. Son of a bitch, Poe thought.

"Thank you, FN-2187," he said, stumbling over Finn's designation. "You're a good man. Now tell us where you are and we'll come and get you."

Still caught by the sound of Finn's voice, Poe had almost forgotten Rey. Their entire conversation she'd stood perfectly still, occupying the barest minimum of space. Now, she made her presence known, coming to stand before him as though willing to fly the second Finn gave a location. Poe caught her eye, aware then that she, like Leia, undoubtedly knew everything that had crossed his mind. She stared at him, not as a challenger, but as a friend, someone ready and willing to fly into harm's way to save a man they both cared for. Poe offered her a faint smile.

"The Penalizer is a flagship." Finn's voice carried over the connection. "You won't get on board without a distraction. I have a comlink in my helmet. When you're close enough, you should be able to contact me. I'll send you the channel. Once I know you're here, I can distract them long enough for you to get on board."

That was all well and good, Poe wanted to say, but they still needed Finn's actual location.

"You need to come to the port side of the ship. There's a landing bay: 18C. It's marked from the outside. Beneath it is a service tunnel that should be large enough to land a ship. It's not monitored."

"Okay," Poe said. "That's good, but do you know your point in space? Coordinates, anything."

 _Calmly_ , he told himself, not wanting to scare Finn off. They were so close now, Poe terrified this was all going to blow up in their face.

"I'm.... I'm sorry. They don't tell us that."

Gone was Finn's hope, replaced by what sounded like sinking despair. He thought they weren't coming--couldn't come--Poe realized.

"That's okay. We can still find you. We will still find you. I promise you, okay?"

He paused then, swallowing against a surge of emotion. Across the room one of the technicians held up a hand. Poe's breath caught.

"Fi... FN-2187, I need you to do me a favour, okay? I just need you to keep this connection open for a little while longer. Can you do that for me?"

For a long minute Finn didn't say anything, Poe unintentionally holding his breath. Across the room, the technicians worked furiously, close, Poe thought, to tracing the signal's origins. 

"I... I don't have much time. They... They do checks. If I'm not back..."

He trailed off, but it didn't matter, one of the technician's signalling to Leia, the entire room erupting into applause. Poe cupped his hand over the headset's mouthpiece.

"That's okay. We've got you. Okay. We're coming. We will be there as soon as we can. Just hold out a little while longer, okay?"

He didn't say anything else--he wanted to, oh how he wanted to--but all of that could wait, Finn within their reach. Handing the headset back to Leia, Poe exchanged a brief glance with Rey, her grin all the confirmation he needed. This was happening. They were bringing Finn home.

 

~*~

_"You've cleared all of them," Leia said, not a question but a statement of fact. She trusted him, he knew, and yet in that moment he wished she hadn't._

_"I've gone through the entire passenger manifest. Unless our informant is a six year old child, there was no one on board the Elysium that fits the profile."_

_Just Ooron Thulo, which put them right back to where they started: an operative on base without a single lead._

_"That's a problem," Leia said._

_Poe agreed. D'Qar housed thousands of people--most of them having joined in the months leading up to Starkiller. How the hell were they supposed to sort through all of them? Weed out a single person? The task was insurmountable._

_"General, I'm sorry, I..."_

_"Don't blame yourself, Poe. You did everything you could. The risk was there regardless of whether we knew about it. At least now we do. I'll speak with some of my officers, encourage vigilance. In the meantime, I heard a rumour you were looking to put in for some leave. Care to explain?"_

_"It's not what you think," Poe said, wondering which of his pilots ratted him out. Not that he blamed them--and it was probably Kare--Poe touched by their concern, it was just that he'd hoped to broach the subject himself._

_Leia gestured for him to sit._

_He did so reluctantly, Leia taking a seat across from him, the debriefing table not exactly Poe's favourite spot--he'd spent too many hours bent over it, writing missives to the friends and families of the pilots he'd lost--but it was private, Poe appreciating that if nothing else._

_"We've been chasing First Order breadcrumbs for months," Poe started, a thwarted execution turning into a prison rescue, turning into a hijacking, Finn nowhere to be found. Leia's expression grew serious. "And aside from springing a few traps, what do we have to show for it?"_

_Nothing, he didn't need to say, Leia knowing full well the impasse they faced._

_"What do you suggest?" she asked._

_"I want to try something different." Leia arched an eyebrow. Poe took it as permission to continue. "There's a guy out on Pujool. A dealer. Not exactly the nicest character, but he trades in First Order transmissions. Nothing official, so I don't want to involve the Resistance, but..."_

_"You're plan is to buy in bulk in the hopes that he might have something?"_

_She sounded incredulous, but also like she thought Poe was rash and mad and wasn't bothered by it. Poe wasn't particularly surprised. He'd met her husband, after all._

_"I'm thinking even if he doesn't have something on Finn, maybe he has something else we can use."_

_General Hux and Kylo Ren's location, Poe didn't say, but then he didn't need to, Leia well aware they were playing at a disadvantage. Still, she shook her head._

_"I can't say I like this," she said._

_"I don't either, but I'm running out of options, and, besides, as missions go this one's pretty low risk."_

_Less risk, certainly, then flying into a First Order trap, or chasing false Star Destroyer signals, or even that time they put down inside a penal colony, looking to find Finn and instead finding rathtars. He left all of that unsaid, knowing full well she knew what he wasn't saying. If there was a chance, however slim, he was taking it, with or without her permission._

_"Maybe, but it's also going to cost me my best pilot."_

_Leia stood then, crossing the debriefing room to stand before a suspended grid map, Secor II's location marked with a red X. She shook her head._

_"We have to assume the First Order knows we're here. I have a contingency plan I want to put in place and I don't exactly have a lot of people I can trust."_

_When she turned back she was no longer Leia, General Organa having taken her place. Poe sat a little straighter, awaiting his fate._

_"I'll authorize this trip of yours, even put up the funds, but I need you to make a stop, deliver a message for me on the way. Deal?"_

_"Deal," Poe said, without hesitation. General Organa nodded, like she wasn't surprised he hadn't asked for details. Poe trusted her to explain._

 

XXIX.

Silence echoed from the comlink. FN-2187 stood before the relay terminal, expecting...

Confirmation, he thought, proof that this was real and not some elaborate dream. Had that really happened? Had he just contacted the Resistance? Had they offered to come and get him? Something told him it couldn't have been that easy and yet...

It came flooding back to him then: leaving his bunk; navigating the halls; the stormtroopers outside the door. Getting here should have been impossible. Contacting the Resistance should have been impossible. He'd known that, even from the moment he conceived the idea he knew the odds of this working were astronomical. So how the hell had he managed this?

More importantly, who was he?

Not FN-2187. That was their designation. _Finn_ , the man on the comlink had said, sounding strangely familiar. FN-2187 flashed back to his confrontation with Kylo Ren, the name hovering between them then, too. Was that who he was? Was that his name? And if so, what the hell did it mean? Did the Resistance know him? Was that why they'd agreed to come?

The gaping holes in his memory grew more pronounced, FN-2187 aware then that they'd taken far more than just errant behaviour. His was missing entire chunks of himself, a seemingly separate existence, one in which he suspected he'd had a name, maybe even a life.

New panic seized in his chest. It rose like bile, settling in the back of his throat until he could scarcely breathe. FN-2187 scrambled to take in oxygen even as he scrambled for his helmet and the door. He had to get out, to get away, to get...

 _Not now_ , he told himself. They were coming for him. The Resistance was coming. And they would get him off the ship. He just had to hold it together, give them their window and then...

Hold out a little while longer, the man over the comlink had said. Commander Dameron. That was his name. FN-2187 repeated it, over and over again until the panic subsided, the pressure on his chest easing, becoming a dull ache.

Still, he didn't move. Standing with his hand on access keypad, FN-2187 released breath after breath until his vision cleared. He could do this. He could go back to his bunk and wait for their transmission. He could buy them time, allow them to get on board. After that... After that it didn't matter. FN-2187 would be out of the First Order's reach, his memories his own.

He allowed the thought to settle, some of his earlier confidence returning. He could do this, he thought again, resolve seeping into his bones. Taking a steadying breath, FN-2187 keyed open the door.

Had he been wearing his helmet--had he enabled his HUD display--he might have had some warning. Instead he stepped out into chaos, running straight, it seemed, into Captain Phasma, a half a dozen stormtroopers flanking her on either side.

His first instinct was to return the way he'd come, but short of re-contacting the Resistance--which wouldn't accomplish much--locking himself inside the communications relay would only delay the inevitable. It left FN-2187 with two choice: fight or flight. Two stormtroopers he might have been able to handle, even three, but this was Captain Phasma, her towering form blocking the way back to the barracks. FN-2187 froze beneath her.

He should have known: should have realized the second he sent four stormtroopers to the assembly hall that eventually someone, somewhere would question their presence. It wouldn't have taken much to put two and two together, FN-2187 berating himself for ever thinking he'd done something clever.

No wonder this had seemed so easy. Up until now he'd succeeded purely on dumb luck.

"FN-2187," Captain Phasma said, her tone unreadable. FN-2187 glanced from her to her stormtroopers, each with blaster held against their chest. FN-2187's hung uselessly from his hip.

"My presence here is authorized," he said, the words not his own. Phasma cocked her head, some of her troopers shifting awkwardly behind her.

"What was that?" she asked. FN-2187 cleared his throat.

"I said, my presence here is authorized."

Silence hung between them, an awkward moment of uncertainty that seemed to drag indefinitely. FN-2187 was half tempted to reach for his blaster. If he took out Phasma, would the others lay down arms? Could he convince them. He doubted it.

"FN-2187. We are taking you into custody," Phasma eventually said, the last of his hopes sinking beneath him. Hand twitching, FN-2187 calculated his odds, and then decided against them.

Instead, he ran.

Or rather tried to, FN-2187 bolting in the opposite direction, even knowing it was a dead end. He sensed rather than saw Phasma's annoyance, FN-2187 clearing no more than ten feet before something struck him between the shoulder blades, pain erupting along the length of his spine.

Darkness flooded his vision, FN-2187 struggling to retain consciousness, well aware of what they'd do to him if he allowed himself to be taken. Dimly, as though watching it happen to someone else, he felt himself hit the ground, though he registered no pain, only a distant screaming in a voice that he thought might be his own.

The Resistance would come, but by then he would have forgotten who they were.


	14. Chapter 14

XXX.

"Finn says you're the best pilot in the galaxy."

He could count on one hand the conversations he'd shared with Rey, none of them particularly intimate, certainly none of them personal. That wasn't like him, conversation a lost art, one Poe took pride in having mastered.

Rey was different.

It wasn't jealousy--jealousy a pointless emotion, ill-suited to living on the edge of a war. It was closer, he thought, to envy, Rey seemingly the centre of Finn's universe, anything Poe might offer him paling in comparison. Still, he wanted to like her, to connect with her in some way, if only because he knew it would make Finn happy, Rey someone Finn adored.

"If you're worried about my flying the Falcon, I'm fine co-piloting," Poe said, not quite able to mask his disappointment. The Millennium Falcon was a legend in her own right, Poe as eager to fly her as he had been the TIE. Rey shook her head.

"I'm not, and I still need you to fly. I know we have coordinates now, but we're not going to get anywhere near that ship if Kylo Ren senses I'm there. I need to concentrate, otherwise I won't be able to block him."

He knew of course, but the reminder was still jarring, Rey impossibly young--far too young for the power he knew she wielded. And maybe that was part of the problem, Rey not just a Force-wielder, but Luke Skywalker's Padawan. Poe couldn't decide if he should hold her in awe or regard her with fear.

"In that case, I promise to take exceptionally good care of her, and return her to you in one piece," he said. It was an attempt at levity, but Rey nodded as though he'd given a solemn promise.

He didn't comment on it--didn't correct her assumption--instead leading them silently through the access tunnel and out onto the service landing strip. Outside, Secor II's sun was still an hour from rising, blut already the air was sticky and damp, Poe regretting the heavy jacket he'd chosen to replace the one he'd given Finn.

He kept it on, if only because it was cold in space. At his side, Rey wore multiple layers, seemingly unaffected by the heat. Poe shook his head, and started them towards the Millennium Falcon.

It was larger than he remembered, a great, hulking thing, her design as inefficient as it was compelling. Poe paused before her, momentarily overwhelmed. In his mother's stories, the Falcon was as much a character as the man who'd owned her; as the woman he'd married.

"She pulls to the right in atmosphere," Rey was saying, halfway up the gangplank before she stopped, seeming only then to have noticed his absence. Poe caught her questioning glance.

"Sorry," Poe said, gesturing to the ship. "It's just..."

Rey shot him a grin.

"I know, right?"

And yeah, he thought, smiling, maybe he did understand a little of what Finn saw in her.

"It's funny," Rey said when Poe rejoined her, "I grew up practically beside her, and all that time I thought she was garbage." She led them into the belly of the ship as she spoke, Poe following in a daze, the Falcon as overwhelming in as it was out.

"An easy mistake to make," Poe said, remembering then his mother's a-frame; the countless times they were offered credits to turn her over for scrap.

If the Falcon once belonged to Han Solo, then Rey belonged to the Falcon. She navigated its meandering corridors without hesitation, seeming to know the ship as instinctively as Poe knew his own. Inside the cockpit, she gestured Poe into the pilot's chair, Poe feeling, for perhaps the first time in his life, like an intruder.

Still, it didn't take long for him to sort out how he was going to get her off the ground. He meant what he'd said when he told Finn he could fly anything, Poe instinctively running through pre-check while Rey primed the fuel cells. The first firing of the engines sent a chill down his spine.

Glancing briefly in Rey's direction, Poe waited for her nod before taking them into the air.

The Falcon was heavier than he was expecting, but there was grace there, too, her controls featherlight. Just as Rey had warned him, she immediately banked to the right, Poe correcting with little more than a tap of the yoke. Not as fast as an x-wing--but still faster than he'd anticipated--Poe got them going, the Falcon's engine's trembling beneath them.

"We've got about three hours in hyperspace," Poe said after they'd cleared the exosphere. He was still assessing the Falcon's systems, half them obvious customizations. No compressor--which yeah, BB-8 had mentioned--but the hyperdrive appeared to work just fine without it. He keyed in their final coordinates, the hyperdrive spinning to life.

"The trace led to a system just on the edge of the outer rim, not quite wild space but close enough we don't exactly know the topography," he said, pausing to initiate the jump. The Falcon shuddered, the first time she'd faltered, Poe half afraid she might come apart at the seams. A second later the drive kicked back in, time and space vanishing, the ship and them entering the pulsing blur of hyperspace.

"The goal is to come down just outside the system, track our way in manually to avoid being seen."

"I can help with that," Rey said. A co-pilot no longer needed, she'd crossed her legs, adopting a meditative posture Poe associated with Jedi Knights.

"Once I'm close enough, I should be able to give you an idea of where their ships are. Provided Finn can time his distraction to our arrival, we should be able to slip in without anyone noticing we're there."

It struck him then that this was it. He was finally doing it. They were bringing Finn home. The thought ought to have brought elation. Instead there was only fear, Poe terrified of what they'd find once they got there. But Finn was still Finn, even if he didn't remember them--even if he didn't remember Poe--and Poe wasn't about to leave Finn in the First Order's hands. Not again.

Against the prospect of a few hours in hyperspace, Poe closed his eyes and tried to convince himself it was enough. It had to be.

~*~

_"You're really doing this," Kare said, more a question than a statement of fact._

_"It's a lead, isn't it?"_

_She didn't know all the details, of course, only that he was flying to Pujool to meet a dealer who may or may not have intel on the First Order. She knew nothing of Leia's side mission, or the credit chip he had in his pocket, Resistance funds--and if that got out they'd have more than just Cen Zapal to deal with._

_"Okay, but so was the penal colony. So was the transport shuttle. So was the planned execution."_

_Poe shrugged. She wasn't... wrong, per se._

_"I appreciate the concern, but I'm not asking anyone to stick their neck out for me, not this time." Not after Jessika and Iolo, he didn't say. "And it's not like I'm chasing a First Order broadcast. This guy's a dealer. He trades in information. And I'm meeting him on board a very public space station."_

_There was no point stating the obvious. Kare knew him well enough to know he was going, without or without sanctioning. That he had Leia's permission was simply a formality._

_"Let me send someone with you. I can spare a couple of pilots," Kare said, the same offer she'd made when she first learned his intentions._

_"No, you can't," Poe told her. "First Order shows up you're going to need all the pilots you can get. I won't be gone long, and when I get back maybe I'll have some good news for a change."_

_He hoped so, anyway, Poe fast running out of options._

_He could tell Kare wasn't convinced, but her knew her well enough to know she wouldn't argue, not when she knew his mind was set. Still, he couldn't risk her changing her mind, Poe somewhat pressed for time, so the second he got clearance Poe shot her an apologetic smile and then scrambled into his ship._

_Everything seemed to happen at once after that: a technician sealed his hatch; the flight deck was cleared; Poe powered Black One's engines; the ship lifted into the air. When he glanced back out over the flight deck, he found Kare standing off to the side, her arms crossed against her chest. He owed her for this, Poe realized, but then he was beginning to suspect he owed a lot of people for a lot of things, the past few months not exactly easy on anyone._

_A thought for another time, Poe thought, pulling back on the yoke._

_Pujool orbited an outer ring of the Anoat system, about as far from Secor II as he could think to go. Leia's coordinates took him in another direction entirely. He prided himself on knowing the galaxy--had pored over his mother's star charts; had explored extensively while patrolling for the Republic; had fielded more missions than he could remember--and yet keying in Leia's coordinates Poe realized he had no idea where they would put him down._

_Wherever it was, it wasn't far. Poe initiated the jump, expecting an endless wait. Instead the trip through hyperspace spanned barely an hour, Poe coming down over an orange and blue streaked planet. He couldn't have identified it to save his life._

_He had half a second to marvel at that before he registered the planet's defense network: another half a second to panic before he realized this wasn't the First Order. It took another full minute to process what he was seeing, his sensor array picking up dozens of New Republic identification signatures, almost all of them military._

_Poe shook his head._

_"Of course you knew about this," he said, wondering why he was surprised._

_But Leia it seemed was good at keeping secrets, Poe under the impression the Republic's army was scattered, those not lost to the destruction of the Hosnian system cast adrift, floating untethered in open space. Oh, he knew eventually they'd regroup, but not this fast, and certainly not this organized, Poe half tempted to believe what he was seeing predated Starkiller's use. Something akin to hope blossomed in his chest._

_All this time searching for the First Order and the Republic had army. How long, he wondered, had Leia known. More importantly, was this a last resort or a flank maneuver she was keeping up her sleeve._

_If his initial arrival had gone unnoticed, that was no longer the case, two x-wings--matching T-70s in far better condition than his own--appearing on either side of him. A formal request for identification came over his comlink. Poe smiled._

_"This is Commander Poe Dameron, requesting permission to land. I have a message from General Organa, of the Resistance. I'm supposed to ask for Deso. I'm assuming that's Major Deso."_

_Now that he knew where he was, and what he was likely doing here, Leia's instructions made a good deal of sense. He'd initially assumed Deso was a codename._

_"That's General Deso, Dameron, and you do know there's still a warrant out for your arrest, don't you?"_

_Poe winced. The warrant was, of course, a formality, plausible denial should the First Order question the presence of a New Republic fleet officer inside the Resistance's ranks. Given the current situation, Poe hardly thought it mattered._

_"You're welcome to arrest me, but either way I'm going to have to request an audience with your General."_

_He waited through an extended pause, the T-70s still hanging in the air alongside him. The voice on the ground--no one he recognized, though they certainly seemed to know him--took their time in answering._

_"You have permission to land. We're sending your astromech coordinates."_

_That was it, nothing else, the comlink falling silent. Poe waited patiently for a set of landing coordinates._

_They came at about the same time as the T-70s broke formation, Poe following them down to the planet's surface, where a landing dock had been cleared for his arrival. Poe set Black One down gently on the dock, and then waited for their technicians to secure his ship._

_There were two officers waiting for him on the ground when he exited his ship, that and a contingent of soldiers, Poe starting to worry they really did intend to arrest him. Landing himself in a holding cell wasn't exactly what Leia had asked him to do, never mind that he didn't need the distraction, Finn still out there somewhere._

_"Kinda figured we were all on the same side these days," Poe said in jest, wincing when no one laughed._

_"General Deso will see you now," one of the officers said, Poe torn between annoyance and relief. Only the New Republic would think six soldiers and two officers constituted a necessary escort, Poe having happily forgotten the pomp and ceremony that came with military life._

_"Lead the way," he still told them._

_Neither officer replied, though they did start towards a set of blast doors, Poe falling into step behind, the soldiers flanking him on either side. He wasn't a prisoner--at least he didn't think he was--but it still felt that way, Poe well aware there was nothing he could do at this point without their express permission. At least they were leading him to General Deso, Leia's holochip burning a hole in his pocket. The sooner it was delivered, the sooner he could be on his way._

_They led him into the base--if he could call it that, the New Republic's compound a massive, sprawling thing, fortified beyond anything he'd ever seen. None of it was new, some of the infrastructure years in the making, which meant whatever they were doing here definitely predated Starkiller. The sight of it ought to have impressed. Instead something akin to dread took up root in his heart. The New Republic, it seemed, was preparing for war._

_He'd known, of course--it was part of why he'd defected to the Resistance. Someone had to stop the First Order, and Stars knew the Resistance couldn't do it alone. But ideology was one thing, a galactic war something else entirely._

_Finding Finn took on new urgency._

_General Deso was nothing like the man Poe remembered, the ascent from Major to General obviously a turbulent one. His hair was peppered with grey, deep lines cutting into into his cheeks. He glanced up the second they reached the command centre, whatever conversation he'd been emerged in seemingly forgotten as he crossed the room to meet them. Poe's escort came to attention immediately. Deso ignored them, his gaze pinning Poe in place._

_"You have a lot of nerve showing up here after the stunt you pulled," he said. "Well, what does she want?"_

_"I'm not entirely sure," Poe answered, quite truthfully. He paused then to fish the holochip from his pocket, offering it over with very little ceremony._

_"She just asked me to deliver this. For your eyes only."_

_This was the same man who'd promised to deal with the First Order should they become an issue. Poe wondered when that had happened: when the Republic had decided the First Order was an issue. Surely they saw this coming, even before the Hosnian system. They wouldn't have secreted away this base otherwise._

_"That it?" Deso asked, curt and to the point, Poe deciding maybe he liked the guy after all._

_"That's it."_

_He got no answer, Deso dismissing him with an abrupt wave. It took Poe's escort several seconds to interpret it as permission to return Poe to his ship, but they did, the two officers leading Poe back the way they'd come, Deso having returned to his conversation, Leia's message safely delivered, Poe only a little curious to know what it said._

_Not enough to linger, Pujool still waiting, whatever Leia intended, whatever the New Republic had planned, unimportant in the face of finding Finn, Poe's priorities now vastly different from the one's that had spurred his defection to the Resistance._

~*~

XXXI.

He preferred the interrogation cells, the harsh lights of the infirmary reminding him faintly of home.

Ren laughed. Had he ever known such a thing? The child that was Ben knew a transitory existence, his life flitted from one location to the next: his mother's causes, his father's failings. The only light he'd ever known was artificial, a dull yellow flooding the halls of ships. FN-2187 didn't know it, but he'd had it easy, a stormtrooper's upbringing downright nurturing compared to Ren's.

"And yet still you'd betray us," Ren said, circling FN-2187's prone form.

Phasma had had him strapped into an interrogation chair, thick binders securing his wrists and ankles. Undoubtedly she thought him subdued: safe. Ren knew better. The second he woke his bindings would cease to exist. Ren double checked the dampening field, his own precaution, insurance against FN-2187 waking before his time.

"I offered you a gift," Ren hissed, bending low to speak the words directly into FN-2187's ear. Unconscious, his fear had dissipated, and yet Ren felt a trembling in the Force, inner awareness struggling to break free. Ren drew tight FN-2187's invisible bonds.

Somewhere across the galaxy, Snoke was preparing to come. There were still so many things FN-2187 hid.

His vaults were locked, but not guarded--not like this--and Ren had time; time enough to pick FN-2187's locks, to understand the full gravity of FN-2187's betrayal.

"What are you hiding, I wonder," he mused, the first of FN-2187's locks giving way.

A torrent of memories flooded his mind, far brighter than Ren expected, the sheer vividness of it overwhelming. He staggered, momentarily repulsed--how could anyone tolerate such crippling emotion--but soon enough he stemmed the tide, the Force a barricade, Ren using it to shelter from the onslaught.

It was easily enough to pick stray memories from the maelstrom, a brighter one catching Ren's attention. He plucked it free, seeing then the scavenger, her mouth drawn into a thin line. She extended a hand, FN-2187 accepting it, and then they were running, away from screaming TIEs, towards...

Oh course. His father's ship. Ren's lip drew back in disgust. He cast the memory aside.

And reached for another, this one pulsing, half hidden beneath a soft pink glow. Narrowing his gaze, Ren peered curiously into its heart. Ah, the pilot.

Another man Ren should have killed when he had the chance.

"I'm disappointed," Ren said, seeing then the pilot through FN-2187's eyes. "Surely you did not betray us for this."

Pathetic, he thought, Ren having assumed FN-2187's treason had manifested alongside the Force. But this... This was commonality, the same weakness that drove his mother into his father's arms: the same weakness that betrayed his grandfather.

Another memory, another commonality, nothing to indicate who FN-2187 had contacted, or what they'd been told: nothing to indicate FN-2187's plans.

Ren grew desperate.

"What are you hiding?" he again hissed, wanting then to burn FN-2187's mind to cinder, to leave him a broken, drooling shell, incapable of resistance; the hollow remnants of a threat.

And yet... Snoke was coming.

"What are you doing?" someone asked from across the room, Ren only then registering his audience. He let FN-2187's memories fall back into his mind, chaotic, scattered pieces that showed nothing of FN-2187's plans. Spinning on his heel, Ren scowled at the intrusion.

"Ensuring our continued existence, or are we to ignore his breach of conduct? Would you have him reconditioned, again?"

General Hux stood framed inside the doorway, Captain Phasma at his shoulder. His expression was blank, but Ren could feel his anger--it seethed, spilling from him in bubbling waves. Ren lapped at it eagerly, the dark side of the Force swelling within him.

"When the Supreme Leader arrives, he will decide his fate. In the meantime, I am authorizing a complete reprogramming."

He came into the room as he spoke, his cape--newly acquired--spilling behind him. Phasma remained where she was, blocking, Ren realized, his only exit.

"You are right in one respect," Hux continued. "Reconditioning isn't working. I believe it would be prudent to begin with fresh slate. The Supreme Leader agrees."

He paused then, gaze boring into Ren's mask. It was the closest Hux had ever come to issuing a direction challenge, something he wouldn't have done without the Snoke's direct approval. Ren didn't bothering telling him it wouldn't work. At best it would buy them time, but then, perhaps that was Snoke's intention: clay easier to mould than steel.

Glad for the mask that hid his sneer, Ren inclined his head.

"The Supreme Leader is wise," he said, tying off FN-2187's dampening field. There was some consolation, he supposed, in knowing the procedure would be painful: in knowing his dampening field would prevent FN-2187 from stopping it.

They didn't stop him leaving, FN-2187's memories following him from the room, his father's death playing out again in his mind, FN-2187's horror almost as vindicating as the look of betrayal he'd seen reflected in his father's eyes. Blocking the last of Hux's words, Ren permitted himself a smile.

 

XXXII.

He wasn't dreaming, and yet, he wasn't awake, FN-2187 caught somewhere in between. His limbs felt heavy, weighed down, as though encased in ferrocrete, each step more difficult than the last. FN-2187 stopped, not entirely sure why he was moving. There was only endless darkness, the glow of rising mist the only light.

Where was he?

He tried retracing his steps, desperate to recall what he was doing before he found himself here. The mist around him swirled, vague forms beginning to take shape. One resolved into Phasma, FN-2187's breath catching in his throat. Pain ran the length of his spine, FN-2187 falling...

The communications relay. He'd contacted the Resistance. They were coming for him. They...

Terror seized in his chest, FN-2187 struggling... But there was nothing to struggle against, only rising mist, Phasma and the others having disappeared, FN-2187 alone in the dark.

 _Wake up_ , he screamed at himself, terrified this was how it would begin. Piece by piece they'd take his memories, and piece by piece he'd unravel, until there was nothing left, FN-2187 just another stormtrooper, no one the Resistance would think to save.

There had to be a way, he thought, something that didn't end with him waking in the infirmary, no firm memory of how he'd gotten there: nothing to suggest anything had changed.

That was the thought that terrified him the most: not that they'd take his memories, but that he wouldn't remember them doing so, an endless lifetime of uncertainty, none of his thoughts his own.

 _Focus_ , he told himself. If he could reclaim his memories, if he could hide from Kylo Ren, then he could do this.

Again the mist swirled around him, though this time it wasn't Phasma who rose from the fog, but rather Kylo Ren, his dark, billowing robes displacing the mist. FN-2187 immediately stiffened, or rather, tried to, only to find that he'd been restrained, the cold metal of an interrogation chair appearing beneath him, binders around his wrists and ankles trapping him in place.

He had half a second to panic before Kylo Ren appeared before him, FN-2187's breath catching in his throat.

"What are you hiding, I wonder," Kylo Ren said, FN-2187 feeling then like he was being flayed open, pain radiating into every limb, his head pounding with pressure.

All around them the mist rose, new forms taking shape, FN-2187 overwhelmed by their numbers. They were impossibly to track, most of them vague shadows, but from the mist a single figure emerged, a girl, her expression determined, her features seemingly cut from glass. She held a staff in one hand, the other extending towards him, something in her gaze beckoning him forward. Instinctively FN-2187 reached for her hand, only for his wrist to strike against his bonds. The girl stepped back; vanished into the mist.

A man took her place, FN-2187 recognizing him immediately. He was the man from his dream, his eyes alight with amusement, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lip. Something surged in FN-2187's chest, an erratic fluttering that caught beneath his breastbone, threatening his oxygen supply.

"I'm disappointed," Ren said, FN-2187 reminded of his presence. "Surely you did not betray us for this."

The words caught in FN-2187 throat, _betray us_ echoing within the confines of his skull. Did he mean the Resistance? Did he know? Had they traced his comm? Coalescing into thick tendrils that coiled around his limbs, the mist had taken on a sickly hue.

"I don't..." FN-2187 started to say, his thoughts dissipating as the mist swirled, two new figures emerging from the fog.

These he recognized immediately, General Hux and Captain Phasma appearing before him.

"What are you doing?" General Hux asked, the question, FN-2187 thought, directed at Kylo Ren.

He heard only pieces of Kylo Ren's answer, their conversation scattering around him, FN-2187 left staring at Captain Phasma. She wasn't solid, not like General Hux, her armour rippling like water. This, he suspected, was not a memory. What was it, then?

Whatever it was, there was something here, something important, an idle thought that didn't fully take shape, not until he sensed Kylo Ren's retreat, his dark-clad figure retreating into the mist.

Phasma came forward to take his place, her armour once again durasteel.

"I want you to oversee the procedure personally," General Hux was saying. "No one is to enter or exit this room without my express permission."

"Yes, sir," Captain Phasma answered, General Hux spinning on his heel. He didn't so much leave as he did evaporate, FN-2187 left staring into the space he once occupied, the mist already spinning a new form. This one resolved into the stern expression of a medical technician. FN-2187 recoiled.

Whatever he was seeing, he knew this was it, the moment of truth, the moment they stripped him of everything he was. He drew back, horror clawing at his throat, his voice raw and ragged when he spoke.

"No," he said, surprised when both the technician and Phasma froze. All around them the mist began to recede, in its place the smooth black walls of the infirmary.

"You will release me immediately," he said, only half surprised when the technician started forward. Across the room, Phasma remained frozen in place, FN-2187 only vaguely aware of her trembling.

Whatever he'd done, wherever he was, the moment the technician touched his bindings they fell away, FN-2187 left standing in an empty room, the interrogation chair no longer beneath him. The mist had vanished entirely, along with the technician and Phasma, FN-2187 seemingly alone.

 _Wake up_ , he told himself, certain now that he continued to sleep. The room around him pulsed and flickered, none of this truly what it seemed. On instinct, he pressed his hand to the wall, a surge of power racing the length of his arm. _No_ , he thought, pressing harder. The wall trembled, cracks appearing along its surface. FN-2187 drew back his arm.

This time when he struck the wall, it was with his shoulder, the full might of his strength thrown against it. The wall bowed, and then trembled, the cracks spreading. FN-2187 drew back: he struck the wall again.

Again and again until it crumbled, tiny pieces scattering before him, turning first to dust and then to mist before vanishing completely. It left him standing in the empty expanse of null space, FN-2187 opening his eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

//

He could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Poe since the move.

And to be fair, that was as much his doing as it was Poe's, their relocation igniting a sense of urgency that was noticeably absent on D'Qar. After the TIE fighter--after the evacuation--finding the First Order became priority number one, everything else falling to the wayside, the entire base thrumming with tension.

But it was a tension Finn recognized, or at least tension he knew how to handle, the endless waiting on D'Qar something that had burrowed under his skin, Finn as ill-suited to waiting as he was D'Qar's endless heat.

Not that Secor II was any better--and what was it with the Resistance and jungle planets--Finn damp with sweat just from hauling crates across the hangar decks. Two weeks since their arrival and there was still so much to do. Finn couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. Not a full night, anyway, hours caught here and there, training and inventorying consuming his every spare minute.

But sleep was a necessity he couldn't put off entirely, not without First Order stimulants--and Finn was done with those--so when the last crate was unpacked, he started back to his and Poe's shared quarters, needing then at least a couple of hours before he met with his regiment.

He wasn't expecting Poe--despite sharing a room, they never seemed to occupy it at the same time--but he was still disappointed to find the room empty. BB-8 was gone, too, which meant Poe was flying reconnaissance, a seemingly endless goose chase that saw Poe off-base more often than not.

So much for that conversation Finn kept meaning to have.

He didn't have the energy for a shower, but he needed one, Finn stripping methodically on his way to the fresher. Showering whenever he felt like it was a luxury he'd come to appreciate, but old habits died hard, so Finn didn't waste time waiting for the water to warm. Gritting his teeth, he ducked beneath the spray, ignoring the way it stung against his skin, icy pinpricks running the length of his spine.

It was still better than the sonic showers he remembered from his time in the First Order, Finn taking his time, scrubbing clean and then staying under the water until it turned warm, his skin now prickling with heat. He might have stayed longer, but there was luxury and then there was excess, and Finn had spent too long under the watchful eye of the First Order for excess.

He'd also spent too long under the watchful eye of the First Order for anything other than regimen, Finn intending to towel off, slip into a sleep tunic and then climb into his bunk and sleep until sunrise. He got as far as the tunic when the familiar chirp of binary sounded from the other side of the door, Finn hastily dressing as he listened for Poe. A wide smile spread across his face.

"You're back," Finn said as he came into their shared quarters. Poe stood in the centre of the room, half in his flight suit, half out, one arm trapped inside the fabric. He lit up when he spotted Finn, tired smile accentuating the dark circles beneath his eyes.

"Barely," he answered, flailing against the fabric caught around his wrist. Finn came to stand at his side.

"Here," he said, taking ahold of Poe's arm. He straightened the fabric and then unfastened the strap Poe had forgotten to untie. Poe shot him a look of pure gratitude.

"Kriff, I can't even think straight," he said, shaking the arm free.

"I know the feeling," Finn said, stepping back. It wasn't that he didn't relish Poe's presence, heat bleeding off of him in waves, Finn damned-near intoxicated by his presence, but while this might be an opportune place, it sure as stars wasn't the right time.

"You, at least," Poe said, gesturing to Finn's attire, "get to turn in."

He paused then to pull off the last of his suit, replacing it with a his newly acquired jacket. Finn didn't like it as much as Poe's old one, but he sure as kriff wasn't giving the other one back, so...

"Wait, she has you debriefing tonight?"

That wasn't like General Organa, the health and wellbeing of her pilots paramount. He could think of only one reason she'd put the mission ahead of a physiological need. Finn stepped forward, forgetting all about his need for space.

Poe shot him a rakish grin.

"General Hux has himself a new flagship," Poe said, his grin shifting, boyish excitement reflected in his gaze. Finn's breath caught in his throat.

"You found him?"

Almost a year outside the First Order and Hux's name still sent shivers down his spine. He remembered the speeches, the countless propaganda transmissions they were forced to watch, Hux's fervour echoing throughout the ship, his name synonymous with the First Order: with everything Finn now stood against.

"We didn't so much find him, as we did the name of his new ship," Poe clarified, sounding strangely apologetic.

"It's more than we had before," Finn consoled, only then realizing he was once again standing inside Poe's space.

He took a careful step back, Poe seeming to deflate. Finn wasn't entirely sure how to take that, so he didn't comment on it, instead retreating further, until the back of his legs hit his bunk, Finn falling to perch on the edge of his mattress.

"You get its hull number?" he asked. If they had its hull number, and access to a First Order communications relay, they could pinpoint its coordinates.

Poe, his jacket now slung over his shoulders, offered a nod.

"Hull number and a designation," he said, bottom lip quivering as he fought a smirk. "You'll never guess what they called it."

Finn huffed a laugh. He could imagine.

"She's the Penalizer," Poe continued, this time unable to contain his laughter. Finn's echoed alongside.

It lasted a full minute, Poe doubled over, Finn sinking further and further into his bunk, laughter spilling between them until Finn had tears in his eyes. It wasn't really that funny, but exhaustion and relief--strange twin sensations--made it seem like the funniest thing in the world, Finn imagining then the look on General Hux's face when he came up with the name.

"Forgetting for a moment that they're a totalitarian regime in need of dismantling, the First Order needs to be stopped purely to bring an end to their naming conventions," Poe said as their laughter subsided. 

Finn smiled brightly at that. There was something decidedly exhilarating in mocking the institution that once caused him so much fear. He almost wished Captain Phasma was on hand to hear their conversation.

"First we have to find them," Finn said, neglecting to mention that the odds were still firmly stacked against them. Unless General Organa had plans they didn't know about, the Resistance alone wasn't large enough to take on the First Order, even after Starkiller.

"Working on it," Poe said, which seemed to be his cue to leave.

And yet, he made no move to do so, his gaze finding Finn's, silent uncertainty replacing their laughter. Finn swallowed, wishing then they had the time. He suspected Poe felt the same, but Poe merely shook his head, wide smile displacing the tension.

"We will talk about this later," he said, an acknowledgment Finn wasn't expecting, but very much appreciated. Finn let his smile grow soft. It earned him a shy grin.

And then Poe was leaving, BB-8 left behind, the soft light from their docking station filling the room. Still exhausted--tired beyond comprehension--Finn tipped back into his bunk and struggled to find sleep.

 

XXXIII.

This wasn't like before, FN-2187 coming awake in an instant, the hazy disorientation he recalled from his last reconditioning noticeably absent. That didn't stop him from panicking, terror piercing his heart as he struggled to recall...

But no, his memories were intact, or at least he thought they were, FN-2187 remembering the communications relay, the Resistance, his plans.

He remember, too, Kylo Ren, _what are you hiding_ filtering across the void. They'd brought him... yes, to the infirmary, FN-2187 still strapped into an interrogation chair. That brought a new wave of panic, except when struggled against his bonds they gave way, FN-2187 stumbling his way free.

Only then did he notice the bodies.

No, not bodies, he reassessed, moving on sluggish legs to check the first--a First Order medical technician, the man sprawled across the ground, his pulse thrumming beneath FN-2187's fingers. Across the room, familiar armour lay in a heap. FN-2187 crossed the room to crouch at Phasma's side.

She, too, was unconscious, the gentle rise and fall of her chest barely noticeable under her armour, but it was there. FN-2187 stood. He made a slow circuit of the room.

What had happened?

He knew the basics. He knew they'd taken him outside the communications relay. He remembered taking a stun-bolt to the back; he remembered falling. He knew they must have brought him here, for reconditioning. He remembered General Hux leaving, the technician and Captain Phasma remaining behind, FN-2187...

It came back to him then, FN-2187 telling the technician to release him. Cold uncertainty settled in the pit of his stomach. How was that even possible?

It didn't matter, he decided. The Resistance was coming, FN-2187 no longer allowed the luxury of time. He had no idea how long it would take, but until they contacted him...

FN-2187 froze. He let his gaze drift around the room. He'd given them the channel for his personal comlink. The comlink nestled inside his helmet. The helmet he currently didn't have. FN-2187 took another survey of the room. Nothing. No helmet. No uniform. Not even a blaster.

Phasma would have hers, but even if he could fit into her armour, he couldn't risk wandering the ship in her likeness. She was too recognizable, her durasteel practically a beacon for every officer on board. There was the medical technician, but outside of the infirmary, he too would stand out. No, FN-2187 needed a stormtrooper uniform, preferably his own.

First things first, he told himself, checking again on Phasma and the technician. They were still unconscious, but for how long? Phasma was the by far the bigger threat, but there was no way he was getting her into the chair, FN-2187 scrambling to find something to secure her with.

The first drawer he opened revealed a spool of IV line, not exactly the kind of thing that would keep her immobilized for long, but possibly long enough to give him a head start, FN-2187 using it to bind her hands behind her back and then, as an afterthought, her feet to her hands. Phasma safely nerf-tied, he turned to the technician.

He was easy enough to haul into the chair, FN-2187 securing his wrists before turning to the door. How long did he have before the Resistance arrived? More importantly, how long had he been unconscious?

New fear thundered in his chest. Had the Resistance already come? Had he missed them? But no, neither Kylo Ren nor General Hux had mentioned anything about the Resistance. There was still time. There had to be.

Listening intently, FN-2187 waited until he was sure the hall was empty before ducking his head out the door. A quick glance in either direction visibly confirmed his assessment. Not trusting himself to look back, FN-2187 slipped from the room.

The infirmary room door slid shut behind him, FN-2187 suddenly aware of how conspicuous he looked: he was wearing only his bodysuit, his features fully exposed, FN-2187 defenseless without a blaster. He needed a uniform.

He also had to assume the Resistance was on their way, that they could arrive at any time. The man he'd spoken to--Commander Dameron--had sounded urgent, as though retrieving FN-2187 was a top priority. FN-2187 couldn't fathom why, but he wanted to believe it, telling himself the Resistance was just desperate to get their hands on a First Order defector, undoubtedly under the impression FN-2187 still held valuable information. Provided they got him off the ship, he'd tell them anything they wanted to know.

But they weren't going to get him off the ship if FN-2187 didn't hold up his end of the bargain. He may not have a timeline, or even a direct comlink--or armour for that matter--but he knew where they were supposed to meet.

More importantly, he knew how to create a distraction.

The halls outside the infirmary were empty, but that changed the second he reached the first junction, FN-2187 ducking behind a bulkhead to avoid a stormtrooper unit. They passed within seconds, none of them glancing in his direction, their gazes locked straight ahead. FN-2187 briefly considered stepping out from his hiding place; drawing their attention. After all, he'd convinced four troopers to abandon their post with little more than words. Surely he could convince these four to hand over their armour.

He went so far as step out from behind the bulkhead before he froze, the lunacy of the idea striking him hard. He still had no idea how he'd managed to get into the communications relay--or even how he'd managed to get out of the infirmary--FN-2187 not about to confront a unit of stormtroopers on the off chance it might happen again. What he needed was an empty barracks. He had a rough idea of the rotation schedule. If he could figure out which units were on sleep rotation, he could get into their barracks and raid their lockers. The trick would be getting to the barrack block unseen.

A quick glance up and down the hall proved uninspiring, FN-2187 leaning against the bulkhead as he tried to come up with a plan. What he needed was...

Oh.

 _Oh_ , he thought, stepping back, his gaze falling to the bulkhead. He didn't have full schematics, but he knew the ship's layout: could probably navigate the ventilation shafts with relative ease. It would be a tight fit, but certainly no worse than some of the places their sim training had taken them. Feeling then a growing certainty he could pull this off, FN-2187 reached for the access panel, his plan now suddenly clear.

 

~*~

_The station above Pujool wasn't exactly the kind of place Poe would have frequented by choice. It wasn't even the kind of place he would have frequented on request, but he wasn't exactly in a position to suggest a new meet-point. If he were, he might have suggested a time._

_As it was, he'd been waiting three days, his contact's promise of a dealer beginning to look like another dead end. Poe scanned the common area one last time to be sure._

_The guy he was looking for stood out in a crowd. That was what he'd been told. He was taller than average, human but disfigured, one of his eyes replaced by a cybernetic implant. No one occupying the tables or stalls matched that description. Dejected, Poe approached the bar._

_They called it a space station, but the station above Pujool was more like a waypoint, a stopover for ill-reputed travelers looking to refuel and trade in blackmarket goods. Poe passed more than one table dealing in Spice; another dealing in flesh. At one point the words organ harvest reached his ear, Poe pointedly ignoring everything, his gaze focused straight ahead._

_"Still here," the bartender said in broken common. Poe grunted in the affirmative; raised two fingers. A glass of Corellian whiskey appeared before him. Poe tossed a credit chip onto to bar._

_The light was muted, too bright for the kind of dealings going on, but too dark for any kind of meaningful conversation. A thick curtain of smoke hung in the air, obscuring the furthest reaches of the room. There wasn't a species unrepresented, or at least not by Poe's count, the dregs of the universe not limited to any particular system. These were the universe's mercenaries. The smugglers. Dealers, pirates, and slavers. It was the last place a former New Republic officer might find himself. The last place the Resistance wanted to be._

_Three days._

_Commotion from across the room drew his attention, Poe bringing his whiskey with him as he pivoted on his chair. Tumult was fairly common in a place like this, Poe having sat through three fights, a marriage celebration, a divorce announcement, and a knifing. And that was on the first night. So he wasn't expecting much. Certainly he wasn't expecting the very man he was waiting on to stride into the room, his companion drawing a blaster against what Poe could only assume was an unwanted advance, one of the bar patrons raising his hands in acquiescence. The blaster disappeared, the moment forgotten._

_Poe tracked them as they found a table near the back, the woman signalling to the bartender as they sat. Poe knocked back the rest of his whiskey. Show time._

_There were set procedures for how these things worked. Poe knew this. He'd been around long enough to pick up the nuances--had bought his way into more than one databank. And yet he didn't have the patience for it, not today, not after three days waiting. Setting his empty glass on the bar, Poe crossed the room and depositing himself at their table, uninvited. The woman immediately reached for her blaster._

_"Not here for that," Poe said, holding up his hands. The woman offered a brief nod, though her hand lingered near the weapon. Poe turned to her companion._

_"I'm just looking for some information, and I understand you're the person to see."_

_The man barked something Poe couldn't quite translate, the language not one he recognized. He narrowed his gaze, glancing to the woman, only to find her grinning._

_"You know, for a Resistance fighter, you're a bit chauvinistic," she said. Poe huffed a laugh. He didn't bother asking how she knew he was Resistance._

_"Apologies. I was told to look for him," he nodded to the man with the cybernetic eye. "Clearly I was misinformed. But I am looking for intel, and I understand you can provide it."_

_Now the woman looked interested. She leaned across the table, dark, short-cropped hair framing her elongated face, the blue of her skin unnaturally dark in the low light of the bar._

_"I have... something that might interest you. Just the one thing. First Order's running some new encryption codes. Not so easy to break."_

_"How much?" he asked, not bothering to question how she knew he wanted intel on the First Order. Instead of answering, she clicked her tongue._

_"Bit too eager for Resistance business," she said, wide black eyes scrutinizing him head to toe._

_Whatever she was looking for, she obviously found it, a wide smile spreading across her face, sharp row of teeth peeking out from behind her lips._

_"I'll make you deal. You tell me what you're so desperate to find, and I'll give you what I've got for half price. Three hundred credits." She smiled again, this time intentionally showing her teeth._

_"You won't get a better offer."_

_Poe considered._

_"I'm looking for someone," he eventually said. "Someone I... care about. He was... Taken by the First Order. I'm hoping to track him down._

_It was as close to the truth as he was going to get, far more than he'd intended to share, and far more than he trusted her with, but desperate times called for desperate measures, Poe having tipped well beyond the limit of his endurance._

_The woman, whose name he still didn't know, regarded him silently._

_After a minute, she barked a laugh, exchanging several words with her companion in that same foreign language before she turned her attention back to Poe._

_"Far enough," she said, reaching into a pocket._

_She drew out a palm sized holoprojector and set it on the table between them, her hand remaining outstretched, palm facing up. Poe fished an empty credit chip and a credit loader from his pocket. Allowing her to oversee the transfer, he moved three-hundred credits onto the chip and then set it beside the holoprojector._

_She nodded to the projector._

_She meant, he suspected, for him to take his purchase and leave. Instead Poe initiated it on the spot, the device humming, blue light spilling from its base._

_The light resolved into a readout, twin columns of numbers almost as untranslatable as her companion's speech._

_"What the hell is this?" Poe asked, something sparking in his chest. He recognized the sensation immediately as anger, the credit chip still lying on the table between them. The woman made no move to retrieve it._

_"This is what I have. They are caloric needs," she said. Poe shook his head._

_"Caloric needs? For who? Stormtroopers? How does this help..."_

_He paused then, the scrolling caught on a glitch, a single string of digits drawing his attention. Poe swallowed, the room beginning to spin._

_"I..." he tried, but nothing came out. There, hanging before him, bright blue reflected on the backdrop of the room, was a name he would have given anything to forget, a name he'd thought abandoned on Jakku._

_"Never mind," he told her, standing, the holoprojector now nestled in his palm. He could sense the woman's confusion--her curiosity--but Poe didn't look back. Instead he started for his ship, FN-2187 burned into his head._

 

XXXIV.

Rey had moved into the main living space. She sat cross-legged on the floor beside the Dejarik table, her eyes closed, lightsaber hilt balanced across her knees. Poe knew not to disturb her. Whatever she was doing, it was working, a patrolling TIE having missed them entirely. It meant Poe could direct his attention to flying, the system they'd traced Finn's signal to surprisingly dense.

Long range scanners had picked up a contingent of ships above the system's fourth planet.

There were at least two destroyers, that and something the scanners couldn't identify. This wasn't just Hux's flagship. Somehow, without really meaning to, they'd stumbled into the heart of First Order territory.

Leia would want to know about it, Poe still a little surprised she'd let them go after Hux's flagship unaccompanied. But contacting her meant risking exposure, their window for finding Finn growing increasingly short. And that was what it came down to, he realized, the Resistance or Finn, conflicting demands that should have weighed on Poe's conscience. Instead he spooled up the communications relay and entered the coordinates for Finn's personal channel.

They ought to be close enough, he reasoned, their estimated arrival thirty minutes out. He had no idea what they were going to do when they got there-- _trust me, I've got this covered_ , Rey had said, Poe's only job to fly them in.

What Rey couldn't handle the Falcon apparently could. She wasn't built for stealth--ought to have shown up on the First Order's long range scanners the second they jumped out of hyperspace--but Rey, and Han before her, had made enough modifications to keep her invisible. Nothing that would fool the naked eye, but Poe knew how to stay out of sight. Between that and the communications jamming, he was fairly certain he could get them damned close before anyone noticed. After that, it was up to Finn, his distraction the only thing that was going to get them on board the Penalizer.

Finn, who still wasn't answering his comlink. Poe gritted his teeth and waited.

And waited, static echoing across the connection. Poe checked the coordinates again--rekeyed them in in case he missed something the first time. Still nothing. 

A random scan brought up chatter from several unencrypted First Order channels, nothing their long range scanners would have picked up on Secor II, but this close Poe could tap into clearance and landing instructions; patrol reports. They were obviously close enough. The signal should have gone through.

Poe entered Finn's coordinates a third time. Still nothing.

"Okay, I know you don't want to be disturbed," Poe said, swivelling in his chair so that he could see out into the hall. Rey opened a single eye, but otherwise didn't move.

"He's not answering," Poe said.

He tried spinning through the dozens of innocent explanations for Finn's lack of response: he had his helmet off; he'd provided the wrong coordinates; his comlink was malfunctioning; he was asleep. But try as he might he couldn't find a reasonable explanation for Finn's silence. Something was wrong. Fear, sharp and ugly, settled in his gut.

Rey didn't answer, nor did she move, but she did close her eyes, a look of concentration settling over her features. He wasn't entirely sure what she was doing, but a second later her eyes opened, something close to relief reflected in her gaze.

"He's there. I can feel him."

"Can you communicate with him, because..." Poe said with a vague gesture.

"Not without Kylo Ren overhearing. I'm barely keeping him blocked. He's stronger than I remembered."

That was a no, then, Kylo Ren the last person they wanted knowing they were here. Poe drew his lip between his teeth. He turned back to the screen.

The fourth planet was too close--it would put them down right on top of them--but there was an asteroid field between the fourth and third. If they came at them from behind, used the planet's moons to mask their approach...

It still didn't get them onto the ship, nor did it announce their presence to Finn. If he knew they were coming... If he...

"Okay, you're really not going to like this," Poe said, adjusting the angle of their approach. "But I think we're going to have to let them take us in."

When he turned back around he found Rey staring at him with wide eyes, a thin sheen of sweat wetting her brow. She shook her head.

"How is this a plan?"

"Hear me out," Poe said, holding up his hands. Rey offered a brief nod, the strain of what she was doing becoming increasingly apparent.

"We hide you inside one of the smuggler holds. I bring us around, let them pull us in by tractor. They take the ship, they take me, by then hopefully Finn will know we're there. Between you and him you should be able to break me out. Then we steal our ship back and..."

He didn't bother explaining the rest, Rey clearly not impressed by his improvisation. They were getting closer and closer to their target. Any minute now they'd come into sight range. Someone would notice them and then...

He wanted to explain all that, to plead his point of view because the alternative was not finding Finn and he sure as kriff wasn't leaving Finn alone on that ship. Not now, not when they were this close. He got as far as opening his mouth to say as much when a burst of static came over the comlink, Poe freezing mid-thought. He blinked once, and then scrambled for the headset.

"Finn, Finn, is that you?" he said, his words met with echoing silence.

The First Order's fleet was now visible on short range sensors. He could see the planet through the viewport, a large gas giant they seemed to be using for fuel. Poe tried the connection again.

"I don't know if you can hear me, but if you're there, just hang on. We're ten minutes out."

He wasn't expecting a response, and yet hope lingered, pathetic and misguided. There was nothing else for it, he thought, Poe aiming the Falcon straight at the star destroyers, stars be damned what happened to him. His plan would work. It had to. And if it didn't, at least he'd die trying to save someone he cared for.

Slowly, the planet came into view, tiny dots against its surface growing in size until he could just make out the vague outlines of two destroyers. A third structure--a station, he thought--hovered just above them. There were undoubtedly thousands of TIEs, but none had noticed their approach.

Soon, smaller ships came into view, shuttles and transports dotting the space between the two destroyers. A closer look at the station showed it was actually a ship, dark and looming, twice the size of the destroyers, its design unlike anything Poe had seen. Their presence remained unchallenged. Poe glanced briefly over his shoulder.

Rey was where he'd left her, though she was now dripping sweat, drops of it falling off the end of her nose, her shirt damp and clinging. Whatever she was doing, it was working, Poe drifting closer and closer, until they were almost on top of the Penalizer, Poe starting to think they might make it after all.

They were close enough now he could make out the individual TIEs, dozens of them hanging in the air, a ring around the Penalizer that was going to make landing difficult. Poe powered down the engines, intent on coasting the rest of the way in, small and silent, just another First Order ship in a sea of First Order ships.

The explosion, then, sudden and marked with a bright white flare, was as unexpected as it was spectacular, Poe momentarily too stunned to do anything but stare. It took several seconds to process what he was seeing, an entire section along the Penalizer's starboard section now venting into space. Several more seconds passed before he realized this was it. Finn's distraction.

"Kriff," Poe said, firing up the engines. They were close, but not that close, their window for getting onto the ship maybe a few minutes, at best.

"Hold on back there," he said, banking sharp and then taking them towards the port side, where Finn had promised there was a service tunnel accessible beneath landing bay 18C.

Finding it was easy. The problem was their speed, Poe coming in too hot.

The TIEs at least, had vanished, the entire fleet mobilizing, reconnoitering along the ship's starboard side. It left the port side wide open, Poe cutting the engines, using the Falcon's thrusters to steer them towards the tunnel access. They were still coming in too fast.

"This is going to be bumpy," he warned, bracing a hand against the flight consol.

Finn hadn't thought to mention how long the service tunnel was, Poe hoping it was enough. They hit on an angle, bouncing twice before they came down onto the Falcon's landing struts. Even then they slid, the Falcon heavier than an x-wing, momentum carrying them into the tunnel, Poe holding his breath, waiting for an impact that never came.

 

XXXV.

Ren watched the approach of Snoke's shuttle from the observation deck, the towering black of his ship looming in the distance. Even knowing this was coming--even knowing the situation was well in hand--Ren struggled against his growing doubt. FN-2187 was secure inside the infirmary, Hux overseeing his reprogramming, and yet...

The Force trembled with uncertainty, something hovering just beyond his line of sight. Straightening his spine, Ren stood at attention, and waited.

He could count on one finger the number of times Snoke had come to him. Every other time before this it was Ren who'd been summoned. But this wasn't a summoning, Snoke here because Ren had failed, FN-2187 now beyond his reach.

The thought ought to have terrified him--it ought to have sent him running in the other direction. Instead he stood, still and impassive, watching as Snoke's shuttle entered the hangar bay, blast doors sealing shut behind it.

Ren made his way to the flight deck.

When he was younger, Snoke a figure from his dreams, he'd imagined meeting Snoke would disappoint. Most did. The larger their presence, the more disappointing their physical self. His uncle had disappointed. His father, too. But not Snoke. He occupied no more space than Ren, and yet the Force swirled around him, immense power Ren would never know. Without hesitation Ren sunk to his knees, forehead pressed against the ground as Snoke descended from his shuttle, his robes skirting the ramp untouched.

"Master," Ren said, glancing up. Snoke's features were twisted, his eyes glassy, his gaze distant.

"She's here," he said, sounding surprise. Ren flew quickly to his feet.

"The scavenger?" he asked, forgetting his place. He searched frantically for her presence, and found nothing. Snoke's features twisted into a smile.

His gaze bore into Ren's, Ren fighting against an urge to cower. His eyes reflected more than just age and wisdom, Snoke commanding power beyond Ren's wildest imaginings. If the scavenger was here, they needed to prepare, neither of them ready--FN-2187 not ready--the urgency of the situation ill served by Snoke's apparent ease. Ren wanted to say as much, to plead his case, to remind Snoke of everything they had at stake.

He wasn't given the chance, the dull roar of an explosion rocking the ship.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who's followed along up until this point. I cannot express how much your comments have encouraged me. Thank you. We are almost there.

XXXVI.

Stormtrooper armour was moulded to fit its wearer's dimensions exactly. Range of motion was essential, impairment of movement a distinct disadvantage on the battlefield. FN-2187's fit him like a glove.

The armour he currently wore did not.

But choice was limited, FN-2187 lucky to find an empty barrack at all, let alone one with a unit in the midst of their sleep cycle. Retrieving the suit was easy: matching it to his size and shape was not. Still, he could deal with a little chaffing if it got him off the ship.

According to his HUD display, he was now TD-4068. FN-2187 thought briefly of disabling the connection, if only to keep from attracting unwanted attention, but the Resistance was coming, so instead he set his comlink to a broadband sweep, hoping to at least catch their communication.

Almost immediately a chaotic cacophony resounded inside his helmet, FN-2187 tuning out most of it while still listening for what he hoped would be an immediately recognizable voice. _If they came_ , he thought, FN-2187 wincing at the thought.

They'd said they would, and he believed them--believed the man he'd spoken to, something in his tone oddly reassuring--and yet doubt remained, a lingering unease he couldn't quite displace. He could still find no reason--at least none that made sense--for the Resistance to risk exposure for him, a lowly stormtrooper in need of escape.

It didn't matter, he told himself. Regardless of whether they came his course was now clear, FN-2187 out of options. And given his alternatives, he'd rather go down fighting than give in to the First Order, to allow them to make and remake him at will; to lose the little autonomy he had.

The Penalizer was a Star Destroyer, it's design an exact duplicate of every Star Destroyer before her. He didn't just need a distraction. He needed a way of crippling her; stopping her before she had a chance to terrorize the galaxy. It wasn't much, but given his current limitations, it was the best he could offer.

TD-4068 didn't seem to attract the same attention FN-2187 would have. He passed several trooper units, even an officer or two, but no one thought to question why a single stormtrooper navigated the halls unescorted. Then again, the same thing had happened on his way to the communications relay, and look where that had led. No longer quite so certain, FN-2187 skirted down a side junction, opting to weave his way through the ship's less populated areas rather than take a direct route.

It still got him to his destination, FN-2187 eventually slipping into the cargo hold unnoticed.

There were three units of stormtroopers on duty today, groups of four working diligently to unload a newly arrived supply freighter. _I'm supposed to be here_ , he thought, his spine straightening, FN-2187 projecting outward calm as he approached the freighter. One of the troopers unloading the ship handed him a crate without question. FN-2187 took it without a word.

The cargo hold wasn't near any critical systems, but just beyond the meet point there was an exhaust port for the engine control core. A single detonation in the hold would provide enough of a distraction to get the Resistance on board, but a second detonation inside the exhaust port should travel its length, disabling the ship's engines. If he was lucky, he might even ignite a few power cells in the process. The timing would be tricky, but if he could pull it off he could disable the First Order's flagship, give him and the Resistance a chance for a clean getaway.

The thought should have terrified him. A few weeks ago it would have, but it seemed the longer he resisted the easier it got, FN-2187 no longer weighed down by conditioned terror.

No one thought to question a stormtrooper carrying a crate into the ammunitions storeroom, though he still keyed the door shut behind him. Inside, FN-2187 set the crate on the ground and then slid behind the access panel. He doubted his clearance codes worked anymore, and even if they did entering them would alert the First Order to his location, so instead he brought up TD-4068's codes, the string of numbers appearing on his HUD display. FN-2187 entered them into the console. The room's inventory appeared onscreen.

He brought up the listing for explosives and detonators. Over his open comlink, someone requested landing coordinates for a ship. Whoever it was, it wasn't the Resistance.

The First Order were nothing if not thorough, their list of explosives seemingly unending. FN-2187 didn't need much--anything detonated here would cause a chain reaction anyway--but the exhaust port was tricky. He needed was something he could set and then detonate remotely. FN-2187 scanned the list.

 _And, yeah, those would work_ , he thought, FN-2187 selecting Pyro Denton Explosives from the list. Across the room, an access panel gave way, weapons rack rising from the floor to reveal stacks of explosives, each set neatly in its place.

Two inside the room would more than do the trick, so FN-2187 set four. He coded each to a hand-held detonator and then attached two more to his utility belt for the exhaust port. As an afterthought, he added a couple of blast grenades for good measures.

The whole process took about ten minutes, and still no one had thought to investigate his presence. Over the comlink, a ship was preparing to dock. Aside from that, there was only white noise, a faint static that pierced his eardrums, FN-2187's head ringing with the sound.

 _Come on,_ FN-2187 thought, _where are you?_.

They weren't coming he decided, FN-2187 starting for the door. He was halfway through the cargo hold when he heard it, the words too scrambled by interference to make any sense of them, but the voice was unmistakably his. FN-2187 froze.

He knew better than to respond. Without a private channel, the second he said anything the First Order would hear. He could pinpoint their signal, lock onto their frequency, but it would require removing his helmet, which was both risky and time consuming and nothing he was prepared to do surrounded by stormtroopers. Better to proceed as planned, FN-2187 starting back the way he'd come.

He could feel several sets of eyes watching him go, but no one stopped him--no one called out to question what he was doing. He kept his head up and his pace even, just another stormtrooper bent on some errand, nothing unusual; certainly nothing that warranted intervention.

Whether luck or some trick of will, no one stopped him, FN-2187 making it out into the hall before he allowed himself to breathe. He didn't stop, this time taking the most direct path, the meet point clear across the ship, FN-2187 still terrified he was too late.

He could no longer hear the man he'd spoken to, whatever transmission he'd picked up on obviously keyed to too narrow a channel. Instead he listened to reports of a ship docking, its landing coordinates muffled by chatter belonging to a squad of TIEs. FN-2187 picked up his pace.

If he was ever going to do this, now was the time. He couldn't chance them not knowing he was here--or worse, getting close enough for the First Order to pick them up, all of his plans banking on the Resistance's arrival corresponding with his distraction.

 _Please be close enough_ , he thought as he pushed the button.

At first nothing happened, a prolonged moment of stillness making him think he'd done something wrong--that he'd somehow messed this up without realizing it. And then the ground lurched, the explosion itself distant and muffled, the ship designed to dampen sound. But oh he felt it, FN-2187 brought almost to his knees.

He caught himself just in time, bracing against a wall as the floor fell out beneath him. Another moment of silence, longer this time, and then the alarms screamed to life, the sound of it ringing inside his helmet and out, FN-2187 near deafened by them.

They were accompanied by a flickering of the lights, his section of the ship losing power, emergency red flooding the halls. FN-2187's breath caught, a well of panic pooling in his chest.

 _Move_ , he told himself, struggling against the rapid-fire beating of his heart. The meeting point was just around the corner, the exhaust port not far beyond. He could do this, he just needed...

"You there," someone shouted, FN-2187 spinning to find a stormtrooper heading straight for him.

For one brief hysterical second, he considered running, but memories of the communications relay cut short the impulse. Instead he stood his ground, legs spread as he braced for an attack.

It never came.

"Where are the other TDs?" the trooper asked when he reached him, FN-2187 realizing then the trooper had identified him as TD-4068.

"The next hall over," FN-2187 lied. "I was on an elimination break."

It wasn't his best excuse, but it was plausible, FN-2187 holding his breath while he waited on the trooper's reply.

"You piss with your helmet off? They called an all hands."

He nodded back the way FN-2187 had come--back to the epicentre of the explosion, the last place FN-2187 wanted to go. He debated his options. He didn't have time for this.

"My unit will be waiting for me. I have to find them," he said.

There was something in the way the trooper's spine straightened, something both foreign and familiar, something that told him it was the right thing to say. The trooper nodded, pivoting on his heel even as he started moving, towards the epicentre; away from FN-2187.

FN-2187 breathed a sigh of relief, and then broke into a run.

 

/

"I'm ready," Finn said, expecting an argument. Not that he couldn't counter anything they threw at him: his regiment was in top form; they'd run every simulation available on Secor II; he had clearance from Dr. Kalonia and Kala Sen; he hadn't experienced anything even close to a panic attack in weeks.

He was ready. More than.

"I'm going to have you head-up Delta Squad. I'm sending you in with the first sweep. I want Aris cleared before we send in our techs."

"Dr. Kalonia can tell you I... Wait, you're letting me go?"

He glanced from General Organa to Poe and then back again, but found only twin smiles, Poe amused, General Organa merely expectant. Finn shook his head.

"I won't let you down," he swore.

That earned him a snort from Poe, but General Organa merely nodded, like she'd expected nothing less. Not knowing how else to express his gratitude, Finn offered a salute. General Organa shook her head.

"I'd suggest you both get to work. We're shipping out at 0800."

It was dismissal, he knew, but he still waiting for Poe cue to leave the room--it would take years, he imagined, for First Order conditioning to wear off, Finn still not comfortable walking away from a superior without direct dismissal. At least Poe was found the whole thing amusing.

"This your doing?" he asked when they were out in the hall. It was good to see Poe again, the past three days some of the longest of his life, Finn still waiting on Poe's _later_.

"Nope. She asked if I thought you were ready, I said you were, she agreed, so you're going. Besides, we need all hands at this point."

He wasn't wrong. Finn didn't know all the details, only that Poe and his pilots had traced the First Order back to a once abandoned communications relay, Aris little more than an outpost, but if the First Order was using it again, it stood to reason it was manned.

"You are ready, aren't you?"

It was a genuine question, though Poe didn't sound the least bit doubtful. Finn hoped his faith was warranted.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he admitted, not exactly the affirmation he suspected Poe was expecting, but if he owed Poe anything it was complete honesty. He was ready, more than ready, but until he was out in the field, staring down the barrel, ready was a relative term.

"Our surveillance run suggested a single outpost, no more than a dozen or so troopers. As first mission's go, this one's a walk in the park. You'll be fine."

Poe punctuated the point by clapping Finn on the shoulder, the contact unexpected, warmth radiated down his limbs. He stopped them, Poe getting several steps ahead of him before he noticed. His expression when he turned back was equal parts curiosity and concern.

"We're both going to be fine," Finn said, a promise. Poe arched an eyebrow.

"Of course we are."

"No, I mean." He came forward then, coming to stand just inside of Poe's space, so much heat spilling between them he was tempted to close his eyes. Instead he calmly met Poe's questioning gaze, the widening of his pupils not escaping Finn's notice.

"I mean, we're going to do this."

He had no idea how else to say it, how to convey to Poe everything he was feeling. Poe, however, seemed to understand--seemed to get Finn wasn't talking about the mission. He nodded, solemn and sincere, a soft smile playing across his lips.

"Damn right we are," he said.

Any other time, any other place, Finn might have punctuated the declaration with a kiss. But standing in the hall outside the command centre, General Organa's advisors passing just outside their periphery, a new mission looming on the horizon... It wasn't the place, so instead Finn reached up and set his hand on Poe's shoulder. He offered a brief squeeze.

"Come on, let's go find this damned ship," he said. The smile Poe shot him was brighter, Finn thought, than any star in the galaxy.

/

 

XXXVII.

Even after they stopped moving Poe held himself stiff, expecting... something: a crash, an explosion, anything to indicate they'd actually made it, Poe's first landing inside a First Order ship somewhat anticlimactic.

"At least we're alive," he mused.

A quick scan of her systems indicated the Falcon had also escaped relatively unscathed. One of her landing struts was bent, her side scratched to all heck, but her hull was intact, her defenses up and running, her engines still primed and ready to go. Casting a brief glance in Rey's direction, Poe offered up a silent thanks to the Force.

"We gotta assume he knows we're here," Poe said, fumbling briefly with his chest strap.

Eventually it gave way, Poe detangling himself from the pilot's chair and then heading back into the ship, where he found Rey standing instead of seated on the floor.

"He knows I'm here," she said.

"Finn or Kylo Ren?" Poe asked, dreading her answer. A lightsaber wielding lunatic was the last thing they needed.

Rey shook her head, colour draining from her face. She looked terrified. Something ugly settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Snoke," she said, the word barely a whisper.

He'd heard the stories, of course--didn't believe half of them, but whoever he was, Rey was obviously terrified of him, that enough to cause Poe worry.

"So let's get Finn and get out of here," he said. Rey nodded.

The service tunnel was open to space, which meant suits, the ones in the Falcon so old Poe was surprised they didn't deteriorate on contact. Instead the dated material held together long enough to get them on, helmets connecting with relative ease. Poe tested his comlink.

"I'm going to initialize your oxygen before we open the outer doors," he said.

The tanks, surprisingly lightweight, worked, so Poe moved them into the the airlock and sealed the hatch behind them. _Now or never_ , he thought, keying open the outer doors.

The pressure change wasn't half as bad as he was expected, Poe braced against a rail on the wall, half expected to be dragged into the tunnel. Apparently the Falcon was better at equalization than he'd given her credit for. Still, he took his time locking his boots, unsure of exactly how far the Penalizer's gravitation field extended. Rey, who seemed eager to get underway, led them out of the ship and into the tunnel.

They'd slid far enough along her length they were almost on top of the access port, Poe staring at the massive doors as he tried to figure out how they were going to get inside. This is where Finn should have come in--he'd promised to meet them after all. Except Finn was nowhere in sight, Poe and Rey seemingly on their own.

"Got any ideas?"

"Just one," Rey said, reaching for the lightsaber currently strapped to her belt.

It flared to light inside the darkness of the tunnel, Poe having seen the weapon in use only once or twice. In the vacuum of space it was missing its distinctive hum, but the blade still glowed fiercely, Poe as awed as he was afraid. He took a tentative step back. Rey followed after.

"I need you to hold it," she said. Poe frowned.

"What?"

"For the light." She gestured to the access panel, Poe putting two and two together as he took the blade. He'd forgotten her engineering skills, Rey more than just a Jedi in training.

Her lightsaber was lighter than he'd imagined, and yet holding it in his palm felt like carrying the weight of an entire planet. He found himself growing impossibly still, half hovering, half standing at Rey's side as she pried open a panel and began messing with wires. Beneath the blue of her light, they all looked the same.

And yet, Rey must have known what she was doing, her hands, even gloved inside the heavy suit, swiftly navigating the tangled mess. A moment of suspended uncertainty hung between them, and then the doors slid open, Rey emerging victorious. Poe cautiously returned her lightsaber.

"Nice," he said into the comlink. He wasn't entirely certain, but he swore he saw the outline of a smile, barely visible inside her suit.

Inside the airlock they were met with glaring red light and ringing alarms, Poe instantly transported, remembering then all the times Finn had panicked beneath the pulsing glare of D'Qar's emergency lights. Shaking the thought aside--neither the time nor the place--he stood and waited for Rey to seal the door shut behind them.

Only then did they strip off their suits, leaving them in twin piles by the door. Rey finished undressing first, but she waited, giving Poe time to check his blaster before opening the inner door.

"We should be underneath the hangar decks. There's a network of service tunnels that criss-cross the ship," Rey said. Poe had forgotten she'd spent time on board a Star Destroyer. He doubted her experience was any nicer than his.

"I doubt we'll run into anyone down here, but just in case, be careful."

He was about to tell her the same when her words struck him, Poe reaching out to grab her arm just as she moved to turn away.

"You're not coming with me?" he asked, incredulous.

This time Rey met his gaze, her expression as determined as it was fierce.

"Kylo Ren knows I'm here," she said, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did, but Poe wasn't about to accept it.

"Find him," Rey pressed, her words laced with urgency.

Some of that must have gotten through, Poe's objections dying on his tongue. He looked at her--really looked--seeing then not a young girl in need of protection, but a Jedi knight in need of faith. He offered her a single nod.

"I expect you back here when it's time to go," he still said. Rey shot him a grin.

And then she was gone, pulling an access panel aside to reveal another shaft, this one narrow and steep. Rey scrambled into it with ease, climbing hand over hand until she disappeared from view.

"Okay, Finn," Poe said to the empty air. He started forward.

He had no idea where he was going or how he was going to find Finn, but the access tunnel led straight ahead, Poe ignoring the secondary shafts in favour of walking its length. Eventually it dead-ended at a grate that appeared to open into a main hall. Crouching, Poe peered through its slots and listened.

The alarms were louder here, the red light as vibrant as ever, but aside from that the hall was empty, Finn's distraction obviously working. Using his fingertips to hold the grate in place, Poe pushed, the grate giving way with relative ease. Poe set it aside and then clamored into the hall.

 _Which way_ , he thought, fingering his blaster. The alarms seemed louder in one direction, Poe reasoning Finn's journey would have started at their epicentre. He turned left, getting in maybe three steps before a stormtrooper came around the corner, the pair of them coming dangerously close to colliding. Scrambling back, Poe drew his blaster.

He had it up and pointed at the trooper before he realised the stormtrooper was frozen in place, not surprised but... uncertain. Poe's hand wavered. Slowly, and with exceeding caution, the stormtrooper lifted his hands. Poe's heart caught in his chest.

Months of tightly coiled tension released in a rush, Poe made dizzy by the sensation. Adrenaline flooded in to take its place, the same adrenaline that had carried him here, intensified now by the hope this was Finn.

But a misstep here could spell disaster, so Poe kept his blaster aloft, his hand shaking ever so slightly. He managed to keep the trooper in his sights, Poe watching as the trooper moved slow hands to the lip of his helmet. An eternity seemed to pass, Poe's heart continuing to thunder in his chest. His breath grew quick and shallow, his entire world narrowed to the man before him.

And then there he was, unmistakably Finn, wide eyes staring at Poe like he was seeing a ghost.

He practically radiated uncertainty, Poe having forgotten Rey's warning. They'd done something to him, she'd said. Poe had a reasonably good idea of what that something was, and yet nothing in Finn's expression suggested confusion. If anything, Poe could have sworn there was spark of recognition, something in Finn's gaze...

"I know you..." Finn said, Poe's heart skipping a beat.

Without really meaning to he took a step forward, blaster falling to his side.

"Finn, do you..." he got out, words dying when Finn's expression shifted, a deep frown wrinkling his brow.

"Finn..." Finn said. He sounded like he was testing the name, like he'd heard it before, like maybe...

Finn shook his head. He caught Poe's eye, now vaguely suspicion. Poe retreated back a step.

"I dreamt about you," Finn said, the last thing Poe was expecting.

He did nothing to cover his shock, or his joy, Poe wanting nothing more than to draw Finn into his arms; to tell him exactly who he was and why Poe had missed him so much.

Time, however, was not on their side.

"You're going to have to tell me about that later, okay? Right now we need to..."

He didn't get any further, Finn's head jerking up, his gaze flying over Poe's shoulder, alarm colouring his features. Poe was almost afraid to look.

And yet he did, Poe turning in time to catch the trooper that was coming towards them lift his blaster. Poe cursed as he fumbled with his, nowhere near fast enough. He brace himself for the hit, but instead Finn's arm caught him around the chest, Finn dragging him back into the adjacent hall in one swift motion, too fast for the trooper to compensate, his shot going wide. 

Pressing himself tight against the wall, Poe brought his blaster to his cheek and listened intently for movement that wasn't obscured by the still screaming alarms. This time Finn set a hand on his chest. It was startling enough that Poe glanced up, noticing then a slim cylinder held in the palm of Finn's hand. Closer inspection revealed it to be a blast grenade. Poe found himself fighting a grin.

He could just hear the trooper over the alarms, his voice carrying as he called out for Finn. No, not Finn, FN-2187, Poe imagining him standing in the hall, weapons drawn, content to wait. Blast grenades were compact, their range narrow, precision targeting essential for their use. Poe watched Finn pull the pin and then pitch the grenade without looking, alarm swelling in his breast.

There was a curse, and then a yell, followed by blinding flash and then silence. Poe waited a beat, and then stuck his head out into the hall. Amidst very little destruction, white armour lay sprawled on the ground. Poe glanced at Finn in awe.

"Nice shot," he said. Finn ignored him.

"Come on," he said instead, dragging them out into the hall. They got a couple of steps past the trooper when Finn seemed to change his mind. He came to stand over the trooper, his expression grave.

"You know him?" Poe asked, dreading the answer. Finn nodded.

"FN-3610. He was in my unit. He was... nice to me."

Nothing else, but the words alone were enough to tighten Poe's chest. He watched Finn kneel and then set his helmet on the ground before he reached for FN-3610's, pulling it off in a single motion. Poe's breath caught.

"Kriff," Poe said. Finn glanced up in alarm.

"Do you know him?" he asked, suspicion bleeding into his tone again, like he was starting to suspect there were things Poe wasn't telling him--like he knew Poe knew more than he was letting on. Poe deflated.

"Yeah. He... His name's Ooron Thulo. We think he was a First Order operative. I..."

Finn shook his head. "He's part of my unit. I've known him my whole life, how would..."

He waved whatever else he was going to say aside, either knowing he was missing something or remembering they were pressed for time.

"It doesn't matter," he said, reaching up to slide Thulo's eyelids closed. He stood, leaving his helmet lying on the ground at Thulo's side.

"Come on," he said, gesturing down the hall.

"Um, ship's this way," Poe told him pointing into the crawlspace. Finn shook his head.

"Yeah, but there's an exhaust port that way, and I have these." He gestured then to his utility belt, Poe only then noticing the Dentons. Poe shook his head.

"Exhaust port. We'd disable their engines," he said. Finn shot him a grin. It felt so ordinary, so familiar, Poe almost leaned in to kiss him--stars how he wanted to. Instead he let Finn drag him down the hall, towards the exhaust ports and a way to disable the ship.

 

XXXVIII.

The ship trembled around them, the Force alive like he'd never felt it before. It trembled under his skin, the urge to reach out, to take what was rightfully his...

Snoke bowed his head against the sensation, the want of it filling him with need.

"What is it?" his apprentice asked beside him, sensing only Snoke's awareness. So much power. So much potential. And yet so very human. Snoke drew back his lip, scenting the air.

"She's coming for you. She means to destroy you. You must not let her escape. Bring her to me, and then together we will see to the boy."

Kylo Ren nodded, a half bow Snoke might have appreciated were he not so thoroughly distracted. There was something else. Someone else.

Oh.

Oh, yes.

"Where are you going?" Ren cried as he strode from the room, so needful on this his hour of judgement. Snoke waved the question aside.

"I am going to see an old friend," he said over his shoulder. "And the girl is almost here."

A smile twisting his features, Snoke allowed the Force to guide him from the room.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one final chapter after this and then an epilogue, which I will post simultaneously next week sometime. Thanks again to everyone following.

XXXIX.

Midway back from the exhaust port, the ship's breach alarms fell silent. FN-2187 stumbled, surprised when someone caught his arm.

A quick glance confirmed it was the Resistance pilot--Poe, the man had said, FN-2187 letting the name take shape on his tongue. His expression held vague concern: that and overwhelming relief, conflicting emotions FN-2187 couldn't begin to reconcile. For a long, endless minute, all FN-2187 could do was stare, the silence ringing in his ears, unfamiliar emotion caught in his chest.

"You okay?" Poe said, the first time FN-2187 could remember having ever been asked. It threw him for a minute, his answer catching in his throat. The hand on his elbow slid up to his bicep. Even through his armour FN-2187's skin grew hot, warmth pooling in his belly.

"They've sealed the breach. We don't have much time," he said. Poe nodded.

 _I know you_ , FN-2187 wanted to add, but it was neither the time nor the place, Poe's familiarity--FN-2187's dreams--questions for later. For now they had more important things to worry about.

The hall ahead was empty save for FN-3610, his body still sprawled across the ground, FN-2187's helmet by his hip. Up until now FN-2187 had been operating purely on adrenaline, the possibility of failure not something he'd considered. Fingering the remote detonator clipped to his belt, he thought about it now, seeing then all the ways this could still go wrong.

He was reasonably confident the twin charges, set along the fuel intake lines that ran the length of the exhaust port, were enough to trigger a chain reaction, disable the core, but he hadn't considered the countless TIEs, or the other Destroyer, an entire fleet ready to give chase, their odds of making it out of the system impossibly slim. FN-2187 cast a brief glance in Poe's direction.

Poe was still watching him, his expression grave, as though he too knew their odds. _Why did you come?_ FN-2187 thought. He'd convinced himself they would, that their desire for information would send them into the heart of enemy territory. He saw now that fallacy, and yet here Poe was, standing at his side, risking his life for a man he'd supposedly never met.

And yet, there was something in Poe's expression, a longing that felt as familiar as Poe himself, FN-2187 utterly convinced he knew this man.

"How long do you need to get your ship clear?" FN-2187 asked when they reached the service tunnel.

"Not long." Poe handed FN-2187 his blaster. "But we have to wait for Rey," he said, climbing into the tunnel.

 _Who the hell is Rey?_ FN-2187 wanted to ask, but the name caught on his tongue, FN-2187's vision blurring even as his lungs seized, sharp pain radiating down his spine.

It wasn't panic, though for one agonizing moment it felt identical, FN-2187 half afraid he might succumb this time, fall to pieces when he was finally so near the end. But instead of growing worse, the pain dissipated, becoming a dull ache that matched the steady pressure on his arm.

Glancing down, FN-2187 found Poe's hand wrapped around his wrist.

"You okay?" Poe asked, the question no less alarming a second time. FN-2187 shook his head.

"She's a Jedi," he said, without really meaning to.

He had no idea how he knew, or even where the thought had come from, but Poe's eyes lit up at the statement, the hand on FN-2187's wrist tightening.

"Do you remember her?" he asked.

The question itself was alarming, FN-2187 wanting then to grab Poe by the shoulders and shake him until the answers fell out. _Who am I?_ , he wanted to shout. How many of his memories had they taken? How much of his life had they stripped away? But before he could ask, before he could contemplate what this might mean, he saw her: gauze like rags fluttering in the wind; her hand outstretched; the grit of sand in his mouth.

Pain bloomed across his right flank.

He didn't fall, though it was a near thing, FN-2187 half collapsing into the tunnel even as he caught himself on the wall. He heard Poe curse, the hand on his wrist tugging slightly, a second sliding under his arm, Poe half lifting, half dragging him into the tunnel.

"Finn," Poe said, his voice tinny, FN-2187 too distracted to notice the name.

He could feel her now, in the same way he was aware of Poe, FN-2187 certain he could close his eyes and point to her location on the ship. There was something else, something darker, worse even than Kylo Ren, and yet so too was its counterpoint, a bright flare of light echoing inside his head.

"Finn," Poe said again, his hand now pressed against the side of FN-2187's cheek. FN-2187 opened his eyes--he didn't remember closing them--and took in the stark terror written on Poe's face. Something ugly twisted in his gut.

"She's here," he said, not a question, but a statement of fact.

"Rey?" Poe asked. FN-2187 nodded. "Good, then she'll meet us at the ship. Can you walk?"

FN-2187 shook his head. "No," he said, struggling to sit on his own when it looked like Poe might haul him to his feet. "I mean, I can walk, and she's here, she's just not _here_."

He couldn't explain it better than that, though Poe, who obviously knew more than he was letting on, seemed to understand.

"Do you think you could find her?"

FN-2187 considered. "Maybe? I can't really explain it, but I can feel her. Not an exact location, but I think if I got close enough then yeah, yeah I could find her."

A wide smile spread across Poe's face. "That might be her. She's not a full Jedi yet, but they have this trick. I... I think they call it projection. She could be trying to communicate with you."

 _Projection_ , FN-2187 thought, the last few weeks coming back to him in a rush. Was it the girl? This Rey he apparently knew and yet couldn't remember? The only other Force user he knew was Kylo Ren, which...

"She's here for Kylo Ren," he said, feeling then a great swell of darkness from the other side of the ship. It was everywhere, FN-2187 realized, so thick he was surprised they couldn't see it. The longer he focused on it, the more powerful it became, until it sat on his tongue like rot, FN-2187 near gagged by it.

"He's not alone," he said, terribly confused and yet utterly certain. A brief flicker of confusion wrinkled Poe's brow. It was followed almost immediately by dawning comprehension, Poe growing impossibly still.

"We have to find her," he said.

FN-2187 frowned. The ship was immense. They wouldn't have time, not before they were caught. If she'd gone after Kylo Ren the odds were already against her. He wanted to tell Poe as much, to tell him they should leave before it was too late for all of them, but the words wouldn't come, FN-2187 nodding instead.

He could still feel her, a distant pull from somewhere near the ship's stern. She felt impossibly far away. He glanced back out into the hall, to where FN-3610 lay sprawled across the ground.

"I think I have an idea," he said, Poe following his gaze. He could feel the moment Poe made the connection, awareness bleeding from him in waves. Still, he made no move to leave the tunnel, hovering instead by its entrance until Poe met his gaze.

"How do we know each other?" he asked, as terrified as he was curious. A brief flicker of surprised passed over Poe's features before his expression grew sombre. He answered without hesitation.

"This isn't the first time you've run away from the First Order," he said. FN-2187 eyes grew wide.

"You've rescued me before?" he asked, baffled by the very idea. An amused smile tugged at the corner of Poe's lip.

"Actually, you rescued me, so this makes us even." 

He paused then, his smile vanishing, some of his earlier longing returning. The sight of it lodged in FN-2187's throat, so heavy he could scarcely breathe. He wanted to ask, to know exactly what Poe meant, but time was running short, his awareness of Rey growing weaker by the moment.

Poe seemed to understand that. He gestured out into the hall, FN-2187 nodding once before climbing from the tunnel. Together they moved to retrieve FN-3610's body and hauled it back into the tunnel, out of sight. FN-2187 began systematically stripping him of his armour.

 

XXXX.

He'd known even before he left Ahch-To that it would end here. But then, all stories were meant to end, the end of one story the beginning of another. Luke was looking forward to seeing his father again.

Unless of course he won, which he supposed was a possibility, though Rey's arrival at the temple had done nothing to assure him of the fact. He was out of practice, age and isolation catching up with him, the years before him shorter than the ones behind. He remembered too well the fates of Yoda and Obi-Wan: knew his path likely to mirror theirs.

But Rey was ready. Where he failed she would succeed, and in the meantime he would grant her what support her could. She was not yet strong enough to face Snoke and Kylo Ren alone, but he could tip the scales, ensure at the very least her continued survival. The universe demanded it.

Kylo Ren was of little interest to him, his power as unstable as his mind. _You're nothing like my father_ , Luke had told him once, a fatal mistake he thought contributed to Ben's downfall. But like all men, Kylo Ren was accountable for his own actions, whatever blame Luke carried unburdened by accompanying guilt. Should they see each other again--should Rey fail in her task--he would face Kylo Ren as he faced his father: as one Jedi to another, their shared blood inconsequential.

For the moment, however, he faced a far great foe.

"Come out, Snoke, I know you're there," Luke said, the Force carrying him into the ship's assembly hall. A large throne stood, projected across the stage, Luke counting eight holo-projectors placed around the room. Rising mist, this too projected, obscured the floor. Snoke was always one for dramatics.

How long since he'd seen the man. How long since Luke had considered him a friend, someone he thought he might rebuild the Jedi order with. And then the Jedi order was in ruins, Ben's mind turned, those who stood against Snoke left slaughtered upon the ground.

Without actively thinking it, Luke spun, his lightsaber springing to life just in time to catch the downstroke of Snoke's blade. Reflected in green and red, Snoke loomed, his features twisted beneath a hideous scar.

Remembering then the agony of Snoke's screams--the rage reflected in his gaze--Luke retreated back a step.

"I don't want to fight you," he said, "but I will."

Snoke didn't answer, but then, there was hardly a need. This too was inevitable, their fates intertwined almost from the moment of their meeting. Floating now in the calm of the void, Luke came into a defensive stance and waited.

Snoke's attack, when it came, was fueled by ice rather than fire, his power far more insidious than rage.

 

XXXXI.

They didn't get far before they encountered their first unit of stormtroopers. Poe's first instinct was to draw his blaster and start raining fire--he'd worried about this, terrified he'd find conflict before he found Finn, each shot from his blaster a potential death sentence. Finding Finn as soon as he did was either incredible luck or the work of the Force. Either way, accidentally killing Finn wasn't something he had to worry about now, so the only thing keeping him from drawing his weapon was Finn's hand on his arm.

Right. They were wearing armour. In his adrenaline fueled state, he'd almost forgotten.

The helmets were surprisingly useful. He'd always assumed they'd be clunky, cumbersome, but in addition to providing a wider field of vision, they also provided incredibly useful data streams, Poe able to call up maps, schematics for various systems, as well as operational reports. In addition to knowing Finn's breach was sealed, that all save a dozen units had been returned to previously scheduled duty, he also knew that the unit approaching them had been relieved from duty and were on their way back to barracks. According to the readout on his screen, each of the four stormtrooper's designations were prefixed by an SM. Poe named them all Sam.

He did his best to follow Finn's lead, walking past the Sams without so much as a glance in their direction. He still half expected someone to stop them, but no one did. The Sams didn't even seem to notice them.

If Finn was worried, he didn't show it, Poe struck again by Finn's presence, the fact that he was here, alive and breathing and within Poe's reach. He led them through the ship with determined confidence, the same Finn who'd broken him out of a cell and let him fly his first TIE fighter; the same Finn who'd stood against Kylo Ren, taking a lightsaber to the back and then living to tell the tale.

He didn't ask where they were going, or how they were going to find Rey, trusting Finn to get them there. That didn't stop him from calling up a map of the ship, narrowing in on the section they currently occupied before zooming back out, Poe getting a feel for direction. He thought they were heading towards the TIE hangers.

The next corner brought them face to face with yet another stormtrooper unit, these prefixed by a JR. Poe didn't bother with a name. He fully intended to follow Finn past them, but one of the troopers shouted, a blaster coming up even as Finn wrapped a hand around his arm.

Finn had his blaster out and was already firing before Poe realized what was happening, three of the four troopers dropping, the fourth, the one with the blaster, ducking into an adjacent hall. All of this happened while Finn was still moving, the hand on Poe's arm tugging, drawing Poe back and around until he found himself pressed behind a bulkhead, Finn at his side. The entire encounter took less than thirty seconds. Poe blinked.

"What the hell?" he said. Finn didn't answer.

If he hadn't seen it--if he hadn't experienced it first hand--he wouldn't have believed it. No one was that good of a shot--certainly no one was that fast, not even Finn and Poe had seen Finn on the practice range enough to know that he was both fast and accurate. Was this Rey's doing, or something else? He cast a glance in Finn's direction, but Finn wasn't paying attention, too busy listening intently for the fourth stormtrooper's position.

Jerks, Poe decided. He was calling the JRs jerks.

"Want me to draw him out?" Poe asked, his voice distorted beyond recognition by the helmet's filtration system.

"No," Finn told him.

He started moving before Poe could stop him, Poe's stomach dropping when he realized what Finn was doing. This wasn't drawing enemy fire. It was stepping out into the line of fire, Finn completely open as he moved towards the adjacent hall. He wanted to run after him--oh Stars how he wanted to, because he couldn't lose Finn now--wanted to grab him and drag him back to safety, but it was already too late, any action Poe took likely to endanger Finn further, so instead he pressed into the bulkhead, and waited.

He did have to wait long, Finn ducking his head into the adjacent hall before glancing back at Poe, a quick shake of his head suggesting the other trooper had vanished. Poe stepped out from his hiding place.

"How did you know?" he asked. Finn shrugged.

"I couldn't feel him anymore," he said, averting his gaze. Poe stared for a long minute, willing Finn to meet his eye, to glance in his direction, anything, but Finn continued to stare down the hall, Poe left with nothing but questions.

There'd be time enough for those later.

"What about Rey, can you feel her?" he asked, coming to stand at Finn's side. Aside from the three troopers on the ground, the halls were empty in every direction. How long, he wondered, before the fourth returned with reinforcements.

For a long minute, Finn didn't answer. He stood, lost, Poe thought, in concentration. When he did speak, it was without inflection, a dull monotone that sounded vaguely droid-like when filtered through his mask.

"Not Rey," he said. "Kylo Ren."

He met Poe's gaze then, and even through the mask Poe swore Finn's eyes bore into his own, Poe acutely aware of their connection. He knew immediately what Finn wasn't saying: if Rey was still alive, she was losing. Without waiting for verbal confirmation, Poe offered a nod.

And then they were running, no longer worried about who saw them or how out of place they seemed. The closer they drew to the TIE hanger the more stormtroopers they ran into, but no one stopped them--a handful going so far as to leap out of their way. Poe didn't ask. He merely kept pace, until their next corner brought them to a set of blast doors, these wide open.

Finn led them into the hangar, empty save for a single shuttle and stacks upon stacks of neatly docked TIEs. There were no stormtroopers, no deckhands, only two figures, lightsabers crackling between them. Finn slid to an abrupt stop and stared at them intently. Poe recognized Rey immediately, but the dark figure forcing her back triggered a different reaction, this visceral, Poe seeing then the man who'd ordered civilian deaths on Jakku; the man who'd reached into his mind and tore it to shreds. Without thinking he lifted his blaster and fired a shot, too late remembering what had happened the last time.

This time Kylo Ren didn't freeze the blast. Instead he spun, the shot moving past him to strike the the hangar's magnetic shield. A web of pulsing green ran across it, but it held. Poe repositioned his blaster for a second shot.

He never got the chance, Kylo Ren forcing Rey back with a series of sharp, powerful blows even as he lifted a single, gloved hand. Poe's blaster flew across the room.

After that everything seemed to happen in slow motion. He saw Kylo Ren advance, a spark of red against blue, and then Poe was airborne, flying back towards the blast doors, where he hit their edge with a dull thud. A sharp burst of pain bloomed along his side, Poe near suffocated by a wave of nausea. He clung to consciousness, the edges of his visions going white. Across the room, Finn's helmet struck the floor.

 

XXXXII.

The edges of his vision were tinged with grey. FN-2187 stared, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Across the hangar, eerily empty given normal operations, two figures moved swiftly over the ground. Kylo Ren he recognized, instinctual fear spiking in his chest. FN-2187 stamped it down. The girl he recognized, too, though she was like something out of a dream, her edges fuzzy, FN-2187 not entirely convinced she was real.

Kylo Ren had the advantage. He pressed the girl back, Rey--that was her name--scrambling around a discarded fuel cell as she made her retreat. Without intending to, FN-2187 took a step forward.

Doing so jolted the landscape, the hangar disappearing, in its place the frozen remnants of a forest, its towering trees skeleton-bare, their trunks cracked with frost. FN-2187 took another step, the deck beneath him becoming jagged, snow covered rock. He drew off his helmet, his breath catching in the air.

In his mind, it was only the three of them, Poe forgotten until the sharp crack of a whip drew FN-2187's attention. Not a whip, but a blaster, Poe having fired. FN-2187 watched the bolt carry through the air and strike against a tree, faint green rippling across his vision. When it cleared, the forest gone, the hangar materializing around them.

"Don't..." FN-2187 tried to say, the air now scorchingly hot, so hot the words caught in his throat, FN-2187 choking on their importance.

Even if he had gotten them out, he doubted Poe would have listened. He levelled his blaster a second time, the weapon trembling in his hand before he gave it up as lost. Together they watched it fly across the room.

And then Poe was flying backwards, FN-2187 helpless to prevent it. He hit the edge of the blast doors with a sickening thud, body crumpling to the ground. FN-2187 instinctively took a step towards him, only to find he was frozen in place. A glance across the hangar showed Rey advancing on Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren barely holding her at bay. His gaze slid back to Poe.

Stormtrooper armour offered some protection, but Poe had still hit hard enough to break bone. He stirred briefly, and then collapsed, remaining motionless in a heap on the floor. FN-2187 felt something in him break. His helmet slipped unnoticed from his hand.

He was only vaguely aware of it hitting the ground, the sound of it muted by the ringing in his ears. A cry from across the room drew his attention, FN-2187 struggling against invisible bonds as he turned his head. Kylo Ren had scored a blow, Rey cradling her arm even as she retreated.

He refused to let it end this way: to let the people who had come for him--the people he knew and yet couldn't remember--die for him when he'd given them nothing in return. Besides, Kylo Ren's quarrel was with him, not Rey, FN-2187 remembering distinctly the hiss of Kylo Ren's words. _You do not know half the power you possess_.

He still didn't know what that meant, but he was beginning to suspect, FN-2187 letting himself drift, just like he had inside the interrogation chair; just like he had in the alcove outside the combat decks. The room came immediately into sharp focus.

He grew aware of his bonds, gossamer filaments wound around him, tied off as Kylo Ren focused on Rey. FN-2187 picked steadily at them, each strand coming loose, one by one until he was free. He felt rather than saw Kylo Ren glance sharply in his direction. With a calm certainty he couldn't explain, FN-2187 met his gaze.

Fear radiated from Kylo Ren in waves, FN-2187 aware of it as he'd never been before. He could sense Rey, too, her exhaustion, her desperation pushing her nearly to the limit. She was watching him carefully, taking advantage of Kylo Ren's distraction to retreat to higher ground. Behind him, the steady in and out of Poe's breathing was a reassuring comfort.

Kylo Ren's fear was interlaced with incredulity. He retreated back a step, putting additional space between him and Rey, and then raised his hand, the air around them becoming alive with energy, FN-2187 fully aware Kylo Ren intended to fling him across the room.

He brushed aside the attempt with a flick of his wrist, Kylo Ren's shock readily apparent. This was instinct, the thing that had led him into the communications relay, the thing that had carried him and Poe through the halls. Outside the blast doors, stormtroopers had gathered, though none of them were brave enough to set foot in the room. FN-2187 could feel their fear, their confusion, and in some cases their desire for him to win. He let their hope fuel him, FN-2187 no longer afraid.

Later, he wouldn't be able to explain how he'd done it, but in that moment it was the easiest thing in the world, FN-2187 raising his hand, the energy in the room flowing into and through him, FN-2187 directing it all at Kylo Ren, who struggled only briefly before he, like Poe, was flung carelessly across the room. He hit the hull of a docked shuttle with the same sickening crunch as Poe.

Time lurched forward as he fell, FN-2187 growing aware then of distant shouts. A glance over his shoulder showed stormtroopers preparing to enter the room, but before he could turn his attention to them fire erupted over his shoulder, the bolt of a blaster striking a panel on the wall. The blast doors slid shut, sealing the stormtroopers in the hall. Rey appeared at his side, blaster held limp in her hand.

"How did you do that?" she asked, glancing between him and where Kylo Ren lie crumpled on the floor.

FN-2187 ignored her. He was too busy staring at Poe, the commotion outside the doors having caused him to stir. Relief, sharp and unexpected, spread across his chest, a near gasp torn from his lips. He was moving before he registered doing so, his knees hitting the ground at Poe's side with a sharp clatter.

"Easy, easy," he said, cradling Poe's head.

Slowly, with careful, steady movements, he pulled Poe's helmet free, relieved beyond measure to meet Poe's blinking eyes. There was no dilation of pupils, no obvious injury, Poe offering him a somewhat weak smile.

"Hi Finn," he said, followed immediately by, "I missed you." FN-2187 shook aside the urge to ask, concentrating instead on scanning the rest of him for injury.

"Can you walk?" he asked. Poe nodded, and then shot up in alarm, his eyes darting about the room. Half afraid he might injure himself further, FN-2187 caught him around the shoulders.

"It's okay. We got Rey," he said, Rey appearing then over his shoulder.

"What about Kylo Ren?"

FN-2187 chuckled, or he would have had Rey not gasped. He followed her gaze and found the ground beneath the shuttle empty, Kylo Ren no longer there.

"It doesn't matter," FN-2187 said. "We've got Rey, let's just get out of here."

He could hear them outside the door, an army of stormtroopers trying to breach their way inside. He glanced briefly to the shuttle, but without its power cell it was dead in space. The TIEs were another option, but they were built for two and FN-2187 couldn't fly.

"We need to get back to your ship," he said.

It seemed to be the right thing to say, Poe offering a faint nod. FN-2187 helped him to his feet, not missing the way he favoured his left side. They barely made it a step before Rey stopped them, her expression growing vacant, her eyes glazing over. Without really understanding how, FN-2187 knew she was no longer in the room.

"What is it?" he asked.

"He's here," she said, sounding surprised.

"Who's here?" FN-2187 glanced briefly around the room, half expecting Kylo Ren to appear before them, the hum of his blade crackling in the air. Rey shook her head, a soft smile spreading into her cheeks.

"Luke," she said, her smile growing wider.

He wanted to ask, to understand what it all meant, when her meaning became clear. Luke, she'd said. Luke Skywalker was here.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have broken this final chapter into 2 parts, so 18 chapters is now 19. I am posting 18 and 19 simultaneously. This story is now complete.

XXXXIII.

The scent of burnt flesh hung heavy in her nose. The wound itself throbbed, Rey acutely aware of it, and its need for salve, but it was the smell that bothered her the most. The Falcon had bacta on board, but back on Jakku they made liniments from ground spinebarrel, a soft, soothing scent Rey associated with healing. Cradling her arm against her chest, Rey wished she had some now, if only to clear the air.

"They know you're here now," Finn was saying. He looked alien in stormtrooper armour, but then, so did Poe, Rey almost able to convince herself they'd each stolen a uniform, Finn so much like Finn it was hard to imagine he thought of himself as someone else.

"We can't go back the way we came," he continued, gesturing to the blast doors, where looming silence suggested the stormtroopers on the other side were preparing to ignite charges. They didn't have much time.

"I came through the service tunnels," Rey said, gesturing to an access hatch on the far wall. They were tight, at times difficult, but given their options... She glanced briefly to Poe, and found him watching Finn intently, like he was more concerned with Finn's well being than his own.

"Are you okay to climb?" she asked him.

He was carrying himself stiffly, favouring his left side, but he nodded. Rey could tell he was lying, though she'd spent enough time in his company now to know he'd endure it. Finn, on the other hand, seemed ready to protest.

"You said it yourself, we can't go back the way you came." As she spoke, she met his gaze. It was the first time she'd done so, Rey seeing then the boy who'd dragged her off Jakku; the only person who'd ever cared to ask if she was okay. Whatever they'd done to him, he was still in there, and Rey intended to bring him back.

Finn, who seemed conflicted now, glanced from the blast doors to the access hatch, and then from Poe to Rey's arm before he reluctantly agreed. Rey shot him a grin. He tentatively returned it.

"You'll need this," she said, handing him her lightsaber. Finn stared at it for several long seconds before comprehension finally dawned.

"I.. I can't," he said, sounding vaguely alarmed.

"You've used it before, and I can't," she said, gesturing to her useless arm. Finn's gaze drifted to the wound.

She could see the moment he made the connection. He reached unconsciously for his shoulder, touching the space on his armour that Rey knew hid a scar. This time when he met her gaze, Rey offered a brief nod.

"Your spine, too," she told him. Finn's eyes grew wide. Behind them, a loud pop signalled the first of the charges had been set.

"We should go," Rey said.

She didn't wait for a response, thrusting the lightsaber into Finn's hands and then starting for the hatch. They'd caught up by the time she reached it, but Rey still took the lead, climbing back into the narrow passageway that connected the hangar to an intricate series of tunnels networking the ship.

She could still feel Luke, but heading back to the Falcon also brought them closer to him, so Rey started back the way she'd come. True to his promise, Poe kept pace, though Finn spent the entire time hovering next to him, helping to bear his weight whenever they transitioned tunnels. Eventually they ended just above where she'd originally left Poe, a side tunnel jutting straight down, handholds cut into its side. Rey directed a glance in Poe's direction.

"It's pretty steep," she said, her gaze sliding past Poe's shoulder, to a second offshoot that ran further into the ship. Somewhere near its end Luke blazed like a beacon, holding at bay a power so dark it made Rey's skin crawl.

"I can manage," Poe said, sounding utterly certain. He glanced to Finn, who met Poe's gaze with a worried frown. Poe's expression grew soft. Rey turned her attention to Finn.

"Get him down to the ship. There are two suits in the airlock. Once you get him on board, bring the other suit back for me."

"Where are you going?" Finn immediately asked, a brief flicker of panic flashing across his face. Rey shook her head.

"I can't just leave him," she said, without elaborating. Finn's expression grew incredulous.

"Is this a Resistance thing? Is splitting up some kind of tactic? Because if so, it's a terrible one."

She remembered this bite, the unfiltered exasperation she automatically associated with Finn. Confronted with it now, Rey found herself smiling.

"If I'm not back in ten minutes, leave without me," she said.

Finn was already shaking his head, jaw clenched as though fighting a scathing remark. He glanced from Poe to her and then back again before his hand went to the utility belt cinched around his waist.

"Here," he said, pulling a pneumatic dispenser from one of his pouches. He offered it to Poe. Poe arched an eyebrow, but Finn ignored him, busy getting a second dispenser for Rey.

"Stim-shots. Dose lasts about thirty minutes." He shook his head and then added, "it'll hurt like hell when it wears off."

Medicines on Jakku tended to be traditional--hence the spinebarrel salve--but Poe didn't seem to have any objections, so after watching him jab the dispenser into his leg, Rey did the same.

The effect was almost immediate. Sour ash still sat upon her tongue, but her shoulder no longer hurt, the exhaustion she'd felt having vanished entirely. Poe seemed to be in a similar state, his spine straightening, some of his colour returning. Finn glanced between them and then grunted, seemingly satisfied.

"Before we do this, is there anyone else you've forgotten to mention?" he asked. Rey shook her head. Finn reluctantly gestured for her to lead.

They moved faster with the stims, Rey awake like she hadn't been in... longer than she could remember. The only time they slowed was when they reached a new junction, Finn pausing then to listen, telling them in a whisper that they ship was likely being searched. No one mentioned Kylo Ren, or what they were likely to find when they reached Luke.

He was somewhere near the heart of the ship, Finn seeming to think they were heading towards the assembly hall. There would be stormtroopers, he warned, possibly something worse.

"You feel it too," Rey said. Finn shot her a look of startled surprise. Rey smiled, but didn't elaborate.

They needed to find Luke if only to confirm what she now suspected. All this time, and they could have been training together. She would have liked to have had someone to talk to, but then, watching the way Finn continuously checked in on Poe, she wasn't entirely sure he would agree to come, even without his memories.

A bridge they'd cross when they got to it. For now Luke's presence continued to grow, but then, so too did his counterpoint, a seeping darkness that permeated the air, the stink of it worse than her shoulder.

"We should be right above the hall," Finn said when they reached the next junction, a single shaft plummeting in the same way the route back to the Falcon had plummeted. Peering down the narrow tube, Rey nodded. Wherever they were, Luke was somewhere beneath them. Without waiting to see if anyone followed, she climbed into the shaft.

Despite the stims, her arm was still useless, but the shaft was narrow enough Rey could support her weight by bracing herself against the back of the tunnel. If it was a tight squeeze for her, she couldn't imagine what it was like for Poe or Finn, but a glance up confirmed they were following.

Eventually, after what seemed an endless climb, she hit ground, the shaft opening into a small jetty, a ventilation cover the only thing that stood between her and the assembly hall. It was too dark to see anything through the grating, but Rey could feel the cavernous expanse of the room beyond. More importantly, she could feel the two figures within, the distant hum of sabre against sabre reaching her ear.

Feeling with her good hand, she found where the cover was attached, but without a second hand she'd never manage it on her own. Without speaking, she gestured to Finn, who'd only just reached the jetty floor. He seemed to know instinctively what she wanted, Rey moving aside to give him room.

The grate came free with minimal effort, or so Finn made it seem. He set the cover aside and then stepped out into the hall, Rey following on his heel. The sound of clashing sabres was louder now, though Rey couldn't pinpoint their location, the room slowly filling with smoke.

Not smoke, she realized, the fog projected, that and a towering, barren throne that occupied the exact centre of the room. Rey tracked the projections to several holoprojectors high above where they stood.

"Hang on," Finn said, his words barely a whisper. He pressed a gloved hand against the back wall, feeling along its length until he found what he was looking for: another panel, this one smaller. Finn pried it open and reached inside.

For a moment nothing happened, Finn's features twisted with concentration, and then light spilled into the room, a flood of red that burned her retinas, Rey blinking against its glare. The light didn't banish the fog completely, but it did overpower it so that only a faint echo remained. The throne, once imposing and formidable, grew translucent, the whole of the hall now coming into view. Rey spotted Luke immediately.

His back was pressed against a column, his expression harried, his sabre trembling. The person before him, a towering figure half obscured by flowing grey robes, appeared frozen mid strike, his lightsabre, so dark it seemed to swallow the light. Neither seemed aware of the other, their heads turned, both staring at Rey in abject shock.

No, Rey realized, not her, but Finn, who'd come to stand alongside her, Rey's lightsabre lit before him, its light pressing against the darkness. She had half a second to marvel at it before Luke stepped forward, using Snoke's--it couldn't be anyone else---distraction to land a blow.

Or he would have, except that by the time his blade made contact, Snoke had disappeared, the fabric of his cloak falling to pool on the ground. Luke's hit cut one of its sleeves, its edges smoking. Luke was moving before the fabric fully settled.

"That was foolish," he said, crossing the room. He glanced briefly to Finn, though without a hint of surprise. How long, she wondered, had he known.

"I don't understand," Rey began, but Luke held up a hand, forestalling her questions. He paused then, his hand still held in the air, his head cocked to the side as though listening intently. Rey knew better than to ask.

"They've found your ship," Finn said before Luke could explain, this time earning Luke's shock. Finn didn't appear to notice. "We have to go, now," he said.

He wasn't wrong, though Rey still waited for Luke's nod to set out, leading them back to the service tunnels, this time with Luke in tow. Finn took up the rear, tension radiating from him in waves. Their time, Rey thought, was running short.

 

XXXXIV.

Midway back to the Falcon, the stims began to wear off. Poe faltered, the dull ache along his side becoming a stabbing pain. He was fairly certain at least two of his ribs were broken. Not his worst injury by far, but the pain was bad enough he missed his next handhold, Poe barely catching himself in time.

Slowly, he told himself, now not the time to rush. He wanted to--oh how he wanted to--Poe desperate to reach their destination. The sooner they boarded the Falcon, the sooner he could get Finn home.

The Falcon, Finn assured them--and Poe wasn't yet ready to question how he knew--remained undetected, which meant there was still a chance they could get off the ship, despite the renewed screaming of the Penalizer's alarms.

"They know we're here," Finn had said when they began, "they're looking for us."

It was hardly a surprise. If anything he was surprised they hadn't succeeded, every minute they delayed a minute the First Order came closer to finding them. How long before they began searching the service tunnels? How long before they spotted Rey's ship?

Stars he was tired, the past few hours--had it been hours?--finally catching up with him. He came dangerously close to sobbing with relief when they finally reached the junction that led to the Falcon, Poe waiting patiently while Rey and Luke began their climb.

He intended to send Finn before him, the pain now excruciating, Poe more than a little worried he wasn't going to make it, but Finn took one look at him and pointed him into the shaft, his expression resolute.

"I feel like I owe you an apology. My rescues are usually smoother than this," he said as he started to climb. Above him, Finn snorted.

"Was mine any smoother?" he asked, tone light. Poe couldn't tell if he meant it as friendly banter or if he was simply trying to distract Poe from his pain. Either way...

"You helped me steal a TIE fighter," Poe told him. "It was awesome, until we crashed."

A long minute of silence echoed from above. Poe glanced up, half expecting to find the tunnel empty. But there Finn was, moving steadily down the rungs, Poe's words hanging between them.

"I..." Finn paused. Poe could practically hear the gears turning in his head. He waited another two rungs and then added:

"We got separated for a bit after that. That's how you met Rey."

Looking up was starting to hurt his neck, so Poe let his gaze fall back to his hands, well aware Finn was likely still processing the information. He could recount their entire meeting--every second--and later their reunion, but for Finn they were nothing more than stories, Poe disheartened by the thought.

"Jakku," Finn said, sounding oddly hesitate. Sore neck forgotten, Poe's head shot up.

"Yeah, yeah, we crashed on Jakku."

"I... I remember..."

Poe could practically hear his frustration. Despite a burning desire to press, he kept his mouth shut and waited.

"Sand," Finn finally decided on. "I remember sand."

Poe couldn't help it. He barked a laugh. It carried the length of the tunnel, earning twin sets of eyes from the rungs below. A smile spread across his face.

"Sithspit, yeah. A lot of sand. It got everywhere," he said.

There was so much more he wanted to add--questions he wanted to ask--but by the time he untangled them his foot was hitting bottom, Poe coming down with just a little too much force, the impact jarring. Gritting his teeth, he exhaled against the pain, and then stepped aside, making room for Finn.

"We're going to have to do this in shifts," Rey was saying, Poe cursing himself for not bringing additional suits. Rey was in the middle of explaining as much when Luke held up a hand. He pointed past her shoulder, away from the Falcon, to tunnel's end where Poe had first stumbled into Finn. Straining to listen above the sirens, Poe heard them too, distant voices, still too far off to pose an immediate threat, but close enough to suggest they might.

If the urgency of their tone was any indication, they'd found Ooron Thulo, the man Finn knew as FN-3610. Kriffing hell. They'd pulled the body into the service tunnel, Thulo practically an arrow pointed in their direction.

"We need to move, now," Poe said, even as Rey and Luke started towards the airlock.

"We're not going to make it," Finn said, fiddling with something on his belt. Without even looking Poe knew it was the remote detonator.

"How confident are you we'll survive the explosion?" he asked, Finn's gaze flying immediately to his face. Poe caught his eye, feeling then the same connection he remembered from before, not the one forged over months of companionship, but that first initial impulse, the one that said he could trust this man, that he could put his life in the hands of a defecting stormtrooper and everything would work out. Emotion burning in his chest, Poe trying to convey all of that in a single glance. Finn blinked.

"50-50," he said, offering Poe a shrug. The voices at the end of the hall grew louder, words now distinguishable over the alarms.

"I've had worse," Poe told him.

That earned him a nod, Finn squaring his shoulders as he reached for the detonator. Poe held his breath, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long, the distant thunder of an explosion reaching his ears mere seconds before the ship lurched, Poe thrown off balance, the only thing keeping him from hitting the floor Finn catching him under his arm. Poe was tempted to comment, except that for as much as he wished otherwise, the Finn before him wasn't his Finn--not yet, anyway--so instead he muttered his thanks and then steadied himself while they waited to see just how far Finn's explosion reached.

For one brief moment nothing happened, and then the ship lurched a second time, shouts from the far end of the tunnel receding. As if in response, the alarms pulsed louder.

Time to go.

They found Rey and Luke standing outside the airlock, already suited, Rey with her helmet in her hands.

"Once we're across, Luke will bring back additional suits," she said, her arm hanging limp at her side. She was braced against the far wall, the ship still trembling beneath them.

"Why?" Finn asked, sounding honestly perplexed. Rey shot him a look. Finn rolled his eyes and moved to a access panel inside the airlock. Opening it revealed a row of suits, these in far better condition than the ones Rey and Luke currently wore.

"Here," Finn said, handing Poe a helmet.

Apparently they didn't need full suits, stormtrooper armour capable of withstanding limited exposure, deep space helmets interchangeable with the helmets they'd left inside the TIE hanger. Finn helped him initiate his oxygen line, and then gestured for Rey to seal them inside.

The outer doors opened a second later. Not wanting to find out what Finn meant by limited exposure, Poe started them forward.

The Falcon was right where they'd left her, the four of them clearing her airlock in record time. Inside, Luke shed his suit and then headed immediately for the cockpit, Rey following behind. It left Poe wanting for something to do, even knowing he wasn't up for flying.

"If you can get me into the gunner position I can shoot," he told Finn, the Falcon's engine's flaring to life.

"Shoot?" Finn said. "I'm surprised you can stand."

Together they'd moved into the main living space, Finn depositing Poe on one of the benches. Poe opened his mouth to argue, but all that came out was a low groan, pain making his head spine. Leaning back, Poe stared at the tunnel wall through the room's only viewport and forced himself to breathe. By the time his vision cleared, Finn was gone.

It didn't matter he thought, the rest of this out of his hands. Rey and Luke were capable pilots, better probably than him, and his Finn at least was one of the best shots in the Resistance.

They were airborne now, Luke taking them out of the tunnel, Poe watching the progression through his viewport. This was where things could get dicy, Finn's explosion undoubtedly doing damage, though not perhaps as much as they'd hoped. It had distracted the troopers looking for them, but outside the ship there were still TIEs. There were still...

X-wings, Poe realized, sitting bolt upright and then wishing he hadn't. The jolt of pain did nothing to wipe the smile from his face. There, framed outside the viewport were dozens upon dozens of x-wings, and not just Resistance, Poe spotting New Republic ships in the mix too, all of them converging on the First Order.

"You seeing this?" Rey shouted from the cockpit, Poe easily picturing her smile.

"I'm seeing it," Poe replied, remembering then Leia's side mission, the message she'd had him deliver to General Deso. He'd wondered why she'd seemed so willing to send them, even knowing they were heading for General Hux's flagship; even knowing they risked exposure, months of searching all for naught.

In hindsight, he should have known, Leia never without a plan. Allowing himself to relax for the first time in... Poe couldn't remember how long, he sank back into the bench, tension leaving him as he watched the combined forces of the Resistance and the New Republic wage war on the First Order.

There was a good chance, Poe realized, they might actually win.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have broken the last chapter in 2, so 18 chapters is now 19. Chapters 18 and 19 have been posted simultaneously. This story is now complete. A tremendous thank you to everyone who followed this, commented on this, and offered encouragement. I will attempt a better job at responding now that this is done.

XXXXV.

This was it. It was really happening. FN-2187 was leaving the First Order.

A part of him was terrified this was a dream, that he'd wake to find himself strapped to an interrogation chair, Kylo Ren inside his head. He'd known, even from the beginning--despite telling himself otherwise--that the odds were stacked against him. And yet, for reasons he couldn't explain, here he was, an impossible plan somehow come to fruition, FN-2187 as stunned as he was overjoyed.

Strapped into the gunner chair--a wild, unwieldy thing that was somehow strangely familiar--he watched as they emerged from the service tunnel, coming out into free space to find a fleet of TIEs battling incoming enemy ships. No, not enemies. Not anymore. FN-2187 stared at them in awe, their presence as unexpected as they were welcome.

Poe's ship passed through the frey largely ignored, the screaming of TIEs, the roar of Resistance x-wings, passing all around them, but no one paid them any heed, Luke--Luke Skywalker! FN-2187 not entirely sure if his trembling was fear or amazement--charting them a course to safety.

He couldn't help but glance back, seeing then the Penalizer from the outside. The ship loomed, a dark, insidious thing he suspected would haunt his nightmares for months to come. Its starboard side was a crumpled mess, damaged by FN-2187's explosion. Damage to the exhaust port wasn't visible from outside, but as they came around he could see that two of her four ion engines were dark, a third sputtering as it clung to life. A wide smile spread across his face.

The second star destroyer, now under heavy attack, seemed to be listing, someone having struck a direct hit to one of her thrust engines. They were winning, the Resistance cutting the First Order down, FN-2187 only then realizing this was his doing. He'd given them these coordinates. He'd led the Resistance to this point in space, the battle around him his doing, every life spared or lost his responsibility.

And yet, for all of that, hope burned in his chest, FN-2187 seeing then the turning of the tide. For the first time in possibly his life he allowed himself to consider the impossible: a universe without the First Order, one where every person was free.

Up until now his only thought had been getting away, the desire to run thrumming beneath his skin. He let that slip away--let himself consider the possibility of doing something more; of fighting alongside the Resistance, the man he was--the man Poe remembered--having obviously done so before.

The thought ought to have terrified him. Instead he grew calm, his grip on the gunner controls relaxing, FN-2187 drawing a breath.

He had no idea what to do with himself. Up until now, he'd been running entirely on adrenaline, FN-2187 operating entirely on instinct, but as they made the jump into hyperspace, he found himself at a loss, FN-2187 drifting, his course no longer clear.

A gunner wasn't needed, not inside the well of hyperspace, so he started back up the ladder, limbs weighed down by exhaustion, so heavy he could scarcely convince them to move. Above deck, he let momentum carry him into the ship's common area, where he spotted Poe exactly where he'd left him, half sprawled across a bench, his head tipped back, his eyes closed. FN-2187 cleared his throat.

Poe's eyes shot open immediately, his attempt at a smile twisting into a grimace. FN-2187 came to perch at his side.

"Your ribs," he said, seeing again Poe fly through the air, the force of his landing enough to warrant medical attention. FN-2187's training was rudimentary, but it would do in a pinch.

"I'm fine," Poe said. His gaze was glassy with pain, but this time he managed a smile, staring at FN-2187 like he couldn't believe FN-2187 was real.

"You're not fine," FN-2187 insisted, raising a hand to stave off further protest. He reached Poe's side just as Poe levered himself into a seated position, Poe breathless by the time he was finished, a thin sheen of sweat covering his brow.

He gave Poe a minute, and then reached for the first of Poe's shoulder guards, the armour coming away with a gentle twist. Poe watched him, silent and a little uncertain, his eyes wide as FN-2187 systematically stripped him of his armour.

"Okay, let me see," FN-2187 said when the top pieces were away, Poe left in FN-3610's body suit, the fabric loose around his shoulders. Placing a hand against Poe's side, FN-2187 immediately located the broken ribs--two of them he thought. Poe hissed against the pain.

"Sorry."

"It's fine," Poe said, his voice an octave too high. FN-2187 rolled his eyes.

"Are there..."

"Medical supply closet, just below that bench," Poe said, pointing. FN-2187 crossed the room to retrieve the kit.

His hands were shaking when he got back, exhaustion and something he wasn't quite ready to name. If Poe noticed, he didn't comment. Instead he sat perfectly still, allowing FN-2187 to administer a dose of Nyex and then apply cold stripes to his side.  
"Before," FN-2187 said when the silence between them grew too thick. "You said this wasn't the first time I escaped the First Order." He wasn't entirely sure what he was asking, but Poe seemed to understand.

"You did. A little over a year ago. I... We've been searching for you for about three months."

The words themselves were offered as fact, but FN-2187 didn't miss the slight hitch in Poe's breathing, naked emotion splayed across his face. FN-2187 swallowed. It was a lot to take in.

"The Resistance, was I..."

"Yeah," Poe said, this time smiling. "You fought for the Resistance." He sounded oddly proud, though FN-2187 suspected that was something else, his pride extending beyond FN-2187's actions. FN-2187 wanted to ask, but he had more pressing concerns.

"You called me Finn. Was that my name?"

Even knowing the answer, Poe's nod struck him with the force of a blow, FN-2187's--no, Finn's--breath catching at the thought. He was just a stormtrooper. A nobody. Another nameless mask among thousands, cannon fodder meant to serve only the First Order. To learn otherwise--to have it confirmed... It was too much. FN... Finn let his gaze drop to Poe's side.

"You don't have to keep it. I offered it to you before, and you accepted it, but you're your own man. You can take whatever name you like," Poe said.

"That's not..." FN... Finn exhaled. How to explain? He glanced briefly to Poe, and found only concern.

"I like Finn. It's a good name, but I wish I remembered."

But it was more than that. More than just wanting to fill the gaping holes the First Order had left behind. There were pieces of himself he knew and yet couldn't find, Finn needing answers to questions he hadn't thought to ask.

"I want to remember," he repeated, this time under his breath.

"We can help you with that," came an answer from across the room. Finn turned in time to see Luke and Rey emerge from the cockpit. Rey was still holding her arm. Finn offered over the kit.

"What do you mean?" he asked, staring at Luke. It was Rey who answered.

"Luke thinks you've shielded your memories. Apparently it's something all Jedi can learn to do, to protect themselves against what they did to you."

"Reconditioning," Finn clarified.

"Amongst other things," Luke said. He'd taken the bacta from the kit and was helping Rey to roll down her arm sleeves.

"But I'm not a..."

"Aren't you?" Luke smiled. The scent of bacta, medical sweet, permeated the air. Finn inhaled, and was instantly transported, the walls of the common area becoming the most rudimentary medical bay he'd ever seen. He lay on his stomach, a line of fire racing down his spine, the scent of bacta reaching his nose as a woman he didn't recognize peeled long strips of dressing from his wound. Finn blinked, and found Luke staring at him with knowing eyes.

"I don't..." He glanced to Rey. "What happened on the Penalizer, I didn't mean to, I..."

"Oh, Finn," she said, smiling. "You didn't do anything wrong. And we will help you retrieve your memories. All of them. I promise."

There was still so much he wanted to ask--so much he wanted to know--but by then Rey's arm was bandaged, Rey and Luke returning to the cockpit to bring the ship out of hyperspace. It seemed they had arrived.

 

XXXXVI.

Things had a way of coming full circle. It was one of the first lessons her father had taught her--her real father, not the man in the mask who shared her DNA. Luke, she thought, would understand, but then they tended to think in tandem, the advantage, she supposed, to having a twin.

She could feel him now, inside the belly of her late husband's ship. The Falcon had seen better days, but perhaps that was nostalgia, Leia holding distinct memories of once calling it space junk. And yet, its hull was scrapped beyond repair, one of its landing struts bent nearly in two. The hatch, when it opened, made a horrible sound, metal against metal where the corner was bent. Standing on the flight deck, her arms crossed across her chest, Leia stared into the ship, and waited.

Luke emerged first, years of isolation etched into his features. He smiled the moment he saw her, though it failed to reach his eyes. Leia knew, even without asking, that her son lived: that she would not find him among those the New Republic took prisoner.

Over his shoulder, Rey followed a step behind, her arm held in a sling. Thick bacta bandages were wrapped around her shoulder, though her gaze held only cautious triumph, an expression Leia knew all too well. For a brief moment, their eyes met, Rey offering a nod. Leia had known, of course--could feel his presence--but Rey's confirmation still loosened the tension sitting on her chest, Leia letting her shoulders relax for the first time in days.

A glance up the gangway confirmed the very best, Finn filling her vision, Leia unable to contain her smile.

He was wearing stormtrooper armour, though without the helmet, his eyes wide as he took in the chaos of the base. Leia couldn't say she blamed him. Even with his memories he would have balked at such disorder, the joining of New Republic and Resistance forces hardly a seamless affair.

At his side, hunched over, an arm wrapped around his waist, Poe radiated happiness. He too wore stormtrooper armour, though only the bottom half, his torso draped in black. He clutched his side, but whatever injury he'd sustained paled in comparison to finding Finn, Poe practically floating.

Leia waited for for the party to reach the flight deck before stepping forward. She eyed each of them speculatively, and then drew her brother into a warm hug.

"That was a very foolish thing you did, but we'll talk about it later," she told him. Luke chuckled as she withdrew. Leia shot him a glare.

She turned to Rey next, midway through a one armed hug when a loud trill announced the arrival of BB-8, Leia stepping back just in time to avoid being run over. A wide smile spread across Rey's face.

"Hello, Beebee-Ate," she said, bending to tousle their atena. BB-8 chirped loudly and then turned to Finn and Poe, Poe smiling brightly, Finn, she thought, seeming mostly perplexed.

"There will be time for this later," Leia scolded, BB-8 deflating. Leia turned her attention to Finn.

He stood awkwardly before her, as though trying to find the appropriate protocol. Leia almost laughed, remembering then the first few months after his arrival, Finn struggling to find his place inside the Resistance. Remembering how she'd reached him then, Leia let her gaze grow soft, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"I've been told you don't remember me, so I know this may sound strange, but I am very, very glad to see you again," she told him.

She couldn't help but glance at Poe as she waited on Finn's reaction, Poe gaze flickering between Finn and the flight deck, his eyes wide as he took in the steady stream of New Republic traffic.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you," Finn eventually said. "But Commander Dameron's filled me in on some of it, and Rey and your brother seem to think they can help me retrieve the rest. I..."

He paused then, his expression growing serious.

"Thank you," he said, Leia sensing his uncertainty, this a man who'd expected a different outcome, a man who had no idea how to process success. Without thinking, Leia reached for him, letting her hand rest upon his arm. She offered a brief squeeze, hoping he could feel her through his armour. The slight trembling of his lip suggested he had. Cautiously, Leia withdrew.

"I'm guessing you don't want me to hug you," she said, turning her attention to Poe. He still held himself stiffly, ribs broken if she wasn't mistaken. Poe huffed a laugh.

"If it's all the same, I'll pass on the hug," he said, his gaze drifting briefly past her, once again taking in the base.

"You had this planned the entire time?" he asked.

"Just needed coordinates," she told him.

"And the informant?"

"Thanks to Finn, Lieutenant Zapal is in custody and awaiting trial. And, if my field reports are accurate, he may soon have company."

She watched as Poe processed that last part, his eyes growing wide.

"It's not over yet," she told him. "But our fleet took out the Penalizer. Apparently someone compromised its core, a few direct hits disabling it entirely."

There was no need to mention names, Leia's suspicions confirmed by the way Poe's eyes lit up, unabashed pride reflected in his gaze.

"Unfortunately," she continued, "the second destroyer got away, along with a ship we're having trouble identifying. We did, however, manage to pick up some stragglers, including General Hux, who I understand they pulled kicking and screaming out of an escape pod."

She sensed rather than saw Finn stiffen, her gaze still locked on Poe. Poe's smile brightened.

"Any word on..."

"Nothing yet," she said, letting her gaze slide to her brother. Luke wore a grave expression.

"I believe he's with Snoke, in your unidentified ship," Luke said. Leia nodded. She'd thought as much.

"We can worry about that later," she said, turning her attention back to Poe. He'd drifted closer to Finn, their shoulders practically brushing. Some things, it seemed, didn't change.

"For now I'm sending the four of you to the medbay." She shot her brother a glare. "No arguments. Once Dr. Kalonia clears you, I expect a full briefing."

She let her gaze touch each of them in turn before once again settling on Poe. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," he said, inclining his head in what she imagined was an approximation of a bow. Leia rolled her eyes.

She intended to leave them then, to clear the decks and allow them privacy so that her medics could step in to begin assessments, arrange for transport to the medbay. But Poe stopped her, a cautious hand on her wrist. Leia glanced up in surprise.

"It's not important, but I wanted you to know... We found Ooron Thulo. He's dead." He paused, glancing briefly over his shoulder to make eye contact with Finn. Finn offered a single nod.

"Finn said he helped him, on the Penalizer. That he was nice to him. I just thought... We were never sure," Poe finished, gesturing vaguely.

Leia nodded, not entirely certain how to process the news. She turned her attention to Finn, meeting his steady gaze.

"I don't know if Poe's told you, but we had reason to believe it was Ooron Thulo who betrayed you," she said, expecting surprise, anything but the ready acceptance she saw reflected in Finn's eye.

"Maybe. But I remember him. I know they're not real memories, just the ones the First Order put there, but I think he shared those memories, so if he did betray me, I don't think he remembered doing so."

The thought hadn't occurred to her before, Leia under the impression First Order operatives were fully accountable for their actions. Finn presented her with a complication she hadn't previously considered. Leia took a moment to appraise.

"I'll include his name on the list of the dead," she said, a small concession, but the only one she was willing to make. Finn inclined his head.

"Thank you," he said, and then, as an afterthought, added, "his name was FN-3610."

For a long time no one said anything, Leia's breath catching in the back of her throat. But then Poe stepped forward, his expression sombre as he said, "we'll add his name. And anyone else you want us to add."

Leia, when he glanced in her direction, could only nod.

 

=============================================================

Epilogue

I.

 

This, Rey told him, was Ahch-To, the place where she had trained, the place where Luke Skywalker intended for them to return. Finn turned in a slow circle, taking in the solid rock, the endless expanse of sea. It felt so real. He could taste the salt in the air.

He still didn't understand how she was doing this. How he was doing this, whatever bridge she'd made as much his as it was hers. _It'll get easier in time_ , she assured him, though he suspected she meant it would get easier if he accompanied her and Luke back to this place. Finn didn't have the heart to tell her he wasn't going. The gaping holes in his memory were still there, not as deep as before, but he didn't need them filled to know his place was with the Resistance.

"Now what do I do?" he asked. She'd brought him here as an exercise, a glimpse into one of her memories so that he might find his own. Rey gestured for him to sit. Finn did so, the ground hard beneath him, the rock infused with cold.

"Concentrate. Just allow yourself to float in the void. When a memory surfaces, don't reach for it. Allow it to come to you."

This he knew. This he'd done before, on the Penalizer, Finn remembering then the way he'd recalled his dreams. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to drift. Warm light filtered past his eyelids, Ahch-To's chill displaced by sticky heat. When Finn opened his eyes, Ahch-To had disappeared, in its place an unfamiliar base, Finn staring at a line of x-wings.

"This is D'Qar," Rey said, sounding delighted. "The Resistance had a base here."

Finn knew the history, but knowing something as fact and living it were two different things. He cocked his head, gaze drawn to a familiar starship. Black One, Poe called her, her hull painted an inky black, her trim done in bright orange. Finn started towards her.

Halfway there he spotted him, Poe appearing from inside the cockpit. He started down the ladder, his back to Finn, Finn's gaze drawn to his...

Finn drew back, the memory dissipating. Ahch-To once again formed beneath him. Seated across from him, Rey ducked her head, bright red splashed across her cheeks.

"I..." Finn said. Rey shook her head.

"That was informative," she said, smiling.

"I fail to see how that was informative," Finn told her, fighting his own rising blush.

Across the open ground, Rey tipped her head back and laughed.

"Try again," she said when she'd recovered. Finn was tempted to refuse. There were other things he could do with his time, the base in an uproar, General Organa's plans to integrate into the New Republic a logistical challenge Finn was certain he could solve. Instead he offered a curt nod and then closed his eyes.

Most of his memories--those he could remember--were still holographs, Finn able to draw and examine them at will. Others, the ones the First Order had planted, were murky shadows, these dissipating over time. The memories he couldn't remember, the ones Luke said he'd shielded, remained hidden inside swirling chaos, an endless tide of colour and light, nothing with any substance.

Occasionally, if he remained very still and very patient, a memory would drift by, Finn catching its edge. If he caught it at the right angle, the memory would come alive, a holovid playing before him, the events surrounding it--the sensation of experiencing it--slotting into place, Finn's holes growing increasingly shallow.

A lot of those memories were of Poe. He knew their colour now, a faint green tinged with blue. The chaos around them pulsed with green.

Floating with him now in the void, Rey snorted. Finn shot her a glare.

"It's fine," she said. "You liked him."

"I still like him," Finn informed her, though that wasn't the point.

"And he likes you," Rey retorted. The swirling chaos dimmed, faint tans now bleeding into its centre.

"He liked me, the other me, I'm not..."

"Aren't you?"

She spoke softly, but he could hear her reproach, Rey's words striking his very core. Finn swallowed. He let his gaze drift beyond the chaos, to where Rey's island ended, the sharp expanse of a cliff falling into the sea.

"There's only one you, Finn," Rey said.

"Yeah, but he's still in pieces," he told her, so much of what he'd gathered fragmented. He had odd bits, still images without the connecting narrative. Rey had promised they'd retrieve all of it, but what did that mean? What was a life lived in reflection. 

"How did we meet?" he asked, waving her aside when it looked as though she might respond. He'd heard the story, but stories weren't memories and Finn desperately wanted to know. Rey smiled. She motioned for him to close his eyes.

The chaos existed here, too, inside the void, its colour now shimmering with gold. Letting his fingers brush against it, Finn concentrated, an image forming in his mind. When he opened his eyes, the chill of Ahch-To was gone, replaced by dry heat and gritty sand. 

He stood beneath the shelter of a tent, the hum of activity buzzing around him. A marketplace, he thought, set in the middle of a desert. Finn's gaze was drawn to a commotion across the square.

And there she was, her clothes different, but she was undoubtedly Rey. Staff in hand, she fought off two attackers, Finn momentarily stunned by the ferocity of her defense. She won handily, her attackers fleeing, Rey bending to uncover...

Finn grinned. BB-8. He remembered now.

Poe had taken them back to Jakku, intent on finding the droid. They'd taken a direct hit, the TIE fighter spinning and spinning, Finn's stomach rolling as they fell. And then there was only blackness, Finn coming to in the sand. He remembered finding the TIE, but not Poe. He remembered thinking Poe dead, the anguish of loss curling in his chest, Finn suffocated by it.

It left him walking, Finn dazed and numb, pieces of discarded armour littering his path. He remembered the joy of finding water, the stench of it filling his nose. He remembered gagging on it, Finn staggering to his feet, stumbling into the shade of the tents and then...

Rey, fighting off would-be assailants, Finn too stunned to do anything but stare. He stared until she turned her gaze on him, her lip curling back into a snarl, staff pointed towards him as she charged.

"Beebee-Ate told me you'd stolen Poe's jacket," Rey said. "They're still quite upset you lost it."

"You hit me with your staff," Finn said, remembering that too.

"BB-8 electrocuted you," Rey deflected, the rest of the memory taking shape, slotting itself neatly into place.

"We stole the Millennium Falcon," Finn said, not a question, but he still earned Rey's nod. Finn shot her a grin. "I remember that."

He let the memory carry him through their chase, impossible moments coalescing together until they were breaking atmosphere, Finn's skin thrumming with excitement, his heart lodged in his throat.

"You see," Rey said as Jakku vanished, Rey now seated across from him, the sharp scent of salt bursting across his tongue. "A ship is nothing but parts, Finn, and right now we're finding yours."

He was starting to believe her, he realized; starting to think she might carry this to its end. The thought made him smile, the hope of it lingering long after Ahch-To dissolved around them, Finn once again seated upon the floor of his room, Rey across from him, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Same time tomorrow?" she asked, rising. Finn nodded. Tomorrow they'd find something else, and then the day after that, and then the day after that until he was once again whole, the man he was fast becoming a part of the man he would become.

 

II.

The base was familiar now, Finn navigating its corridors with relative ease. The experience of being here, so new when he first arrived, was now interlaced with memory, the short time he'd spent on Secor II--before Aris and Finn hadn't yet gone looking for that particular memory--enough to form a foundation, Finn remembering corners he still hadn't seen.

He found Poe's quarters on instinct, though for as often as Poe visited him Finn had never been. Not this time around, anyway, though he was beginning to understand Poe was selective in the things he shared. 

Pausing outside the door, Finn didn't bother knocking, a scan of his hand granting him immediate access.

Poe, who was obviously not expecting him, startled as Finn came into the room. He sat at his desk, a set of blueprints stretched before him. Finn offered him a smile, and then set the box he was carrying down on the second chair.

"I remembered something," he announced, whatever Poe was going to say lost to a brilliant smile, Finn not missing the brief flare of hope reflected in his gaze.

"That's good," Poe said.

The last traces of his injury were gone, Poe holding himself erect, though the circles under his eyes hadn't faded with the passing weeks.

"Are you going to ask me what it was?" Finn teased. Poe shot him a glare.

He hadn't been avoiding Finn, per se, but the memories Finn had uncovered didn't match the caution in Poe's gaze, Finn half convinced Poe was intentionally giving him space. The effort, Finn thought, was costing him dearly.

"We," Finn said, punctuating the word, "used to share rooms."

A brief flicker of shock passed over Poe's features, and then he nodded, as cautious in this as he was in everything. Finn rolled his eyes. He saw no reason for obfuscation.

"We don't anymore. Why?"

He saw the moment Poe caught on, his shoulders relaxing slightly, some of the tension leaving his face.

"I didn't want to overwhelm you," he said. "I thought you might need space."

If nothing else, Finn appreciated the honesty.

"You thought wrong," he said, moving to sit on the bed--his bed.

"I remember you," Finn continued. "I don't know how many of my memories are actual memories and how many are just really vivid fantasies..."

Having moved now to stand at the foot of the other bunk, Poe's cheeks grew warm with colour.

"...but I remember you. I remember how I felt about you. And I know I need to keep seeing the base therapist, and working with Luke and Rey, and at some point I'm probably going to have to address this whole Force thing, but I'd like to see if I still feel that way. I think I do, so I guess what I'm asking is..."

Here he paused, the words easier when he'd rehearsed them this morning before the mirror. But his reflection hadn't stared back, naked emotion playing over his face, and his eyes hadn't shone with unshed tears, vibrant hope reflected in their depths. Clearing his throat, Finn forced the words past his tongue.

"I'm wondering if we can try this again. Get to know each other, I mean. To see if we still feel the same. Would that be okay?"

Poe was was nodding even before Finn finished speaking, the last bit of his uncertainty fading away. On impulse he gestured across from him, Poe moving swiftly to claim the opposite bed. Releasing a breath, Finn extended a hand, thrilled but unsurprised when Poe met him halfway.

 

III.

"The boy won't train with them," Snoke said, his gaze distant, the chair he sat in a poor excuse for a throne. "His interest lies elsewhere, though we must not dismiss him out of hand."

Ren held himself very still, swallowing against the urge to laugh. Dismissing FN-2187 out of hand was what had landed them here, banished to the darkest regions of the galaxy, the First Order in shambles, all of their plans for nothing.

He dared not say as much.

"What do you suggest?" he asked instead. Snoke's gaze swivelled towards him, the intensity of it pinning him in place. Ren straightened beneath the scrutiny, now not a time for weakness.

"Luke Skywalker intends to rebuild the Jedi Order. Perhaps it is time we rebuilt the Sith."

For reasons he would never understand, he thought of his mother, of the anguish she undoubtedly felt upon learning of his father's demise. Trivial things, he thought, seeing then the future unfold. They had intended to conquer from a position of force, a path Ren had rejected from the start. The strength of the dark side did not lay in armies. It burned within him, and within Snoke, and within countless others if only they could trace their source.

"Then I shall summon the Knights of Ren," Ren said, sensing then a quivering in the Force.

Snoke, who undoubtedly felt it too, offered only a smile.

 

End.


End file.
